


The Queen of Slytherin

by MyWhiteKnight



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Slytherin Hermione Granger, dramione - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-29
Updated: 2017-11-17
Packaged: 2018-05-23 22:36:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 95,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6132456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyWhiteKnight/pseuds/MyWhiteKnight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a young Hermione Granger meets the snide, rude Draco Malfoy, she finds a new goal in her young, magical life: prove to every pureblood git that she is just as good, if not better than them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ride to Remember

**Author's Note:**

> Just wanted to say this is not a stand alone piece. There will be more, and it will be quite long. Thank you!

Hermione Granger stood eagerly at the platform with her parents. Even at eleven years old, the witty and strong willed child assessed the scene before her with shrewd eyes. Chaos reigned supreme, yet even in the state of flux, patterns emerged. Students milled and twisted through the crowd, with or without their school trunks, while the parents remained still. Almost like a pinball machine, she mused. Her mother gave her a tearful farewell hug while her father ruffled her already frizzy curls.

A final, reassuring goodbye and she finally wriggled her way out of her parent’s uncomfortable embrace and towards her future. Hermione skipped towards the train, avoiding tall teens and swerving around weeping parents. _This year will be different_ , she decided, _I will get the best marks and make tons of friends._ A small, excited squeal escaped her as the small brunette boarded the train.

“Watch it!” and “Get out, firstie” echoed through the halls and compartments as she made her way through the scarlet train. Somewhere along the middle car, she found a single boy about her age, sitting alone. _Come on, Hermione, you can do this, you can make friends,_ she thought, bolstering her courage.

“Hello, my name is Hermione Granger, may I sit here?” she asked with a wide, warm smile.

“O-oh! Of course, I’m Neville Longbottom, by the way,” the boy answered. Hermione took stock of his watery eyes, chubby appearance, and stuttering voice. Each detail catalogued for future use, she bounded into the compartment, jugging her trunk on top. “Do you have a pet? A familiar? I have my toad, Trevor.”

“Ah, no,” Hermione answered. “My parents said they would get me a pet after I can prove I can handle the responsibility of going to school on my own.” She fought the point tooth and nail, enumerating the advantages of having a familiar. However, they stood firm, forcing Hermione to submit to their will, with a shake of her head, she remembered where she sat. “Anyways, that doesn’t mean I won’t have one in the future.”

“Well, would you like to meet Trevor?” Neville asked moments later. Hermione nodded, curious as to what a wizard’s familiar would be like. _I mean, if it’s a familiar it must be different, magical even,_ she reasoned. “He’s right… No… Not there either… H-Have you seen him?” 

Hermione raised an eyebrow. While she fancied herself reasonably observant, she told the boy across from her that no, in fact, she hadn’t noticed a toad in the compartment. Or beyond, to be honest. Neville’s eyes widened in horror, barely able to articulate his worry. She internally sighed, wondering why the fates always sent her to _these_ types. Not that she would deny him, she worried for the poor creature’s life. 

Thus, an hour later, Hermione found herself scouring every corridor, compartment, and loo. With no sign of a pesky toad in sight, she sighed. The next compartment door stood ajar as she walked towards it. Two young tenors reached her ears, boys, she surmised, of her own age.

“But you’re Harry Potter! I mean, you should be able to, you know,” the first boy said.

“I-I guess. I just don’t know much about the wizarding world,” the second boy, Harry Potter, replied.

Hermione’s mind buzzed to life. She remembered bits and pieces of her history of magic book. The Boy Who Lived did just that, survived the Avada Kedavra curse, the killing curse. It had never been done or heard of until that faithful Halloween ten years ago. She practically squealed, excited to meet someone famous enough to make the history books. 

“Hello, have either of you seen a toad?” she asked, refusing to let her excitement leak through. 

A black mop of hair and piercing eyes stared at her from one side while a blue eyed ginger gaped openly. _Boys,_ she thought with a mental roll of her eyes. _They never know when to be subtle._ They stared at her for a moment.

“Uh, no, I haven’t, sorry,” the boy with black hair said with a shake of his head.

“That’s a shame,” she sighed. “I’m Hermione Granger, by the way.”

“Ron Weasely,” the red head shook her hand, bits of chocolate flying from his mouth. Hermione merely nodded, noting to herself to wash off next chance she got. 

“Harry,” the other boy said. “Harry Potter.” 

She assessed the boy in front of her, apparent glee and excitement finally leaking through her indifferent mask. The tell tale lightning bolt upon his head confirmed her thoughts. She smiled and asked a couple of questions, asking if he knew how to use magic or if he had practiced, which house he wanted to get into. 

“I mean, I practiced all summer. Don’t want to be behind, you know?” she commented, gripping her wand.

“I can do magic, too,” the red head, Ron was it, said.

“Oh really? Do a spell then,” she retorted, sticking her nose a little higher into the air.

“Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, turn this stupid, fat rat yellow,” he recited, pointing at the large rat upon his lap.

Unsurprisingly, nothing happened to the large, ugly thing. Hermione sniffed in disgust, wondering how Ron could be so daft as to believe that was a spell. He appeared baffled and upset, blaming his two brothers for his failure. They apparently knew about his gullibility, and Hermione secretly approved of their actions. 

“Well, that’s not a spell, now is it?” she pointed out.

“If you’re so good at magic, why don’t you do some?” Ron huffed. 

“Of course,” she replied, confident and haughty. She turned towards Harry Potter, noticing his glasses taped together. “Occulus reparo!”

White tape flew and disappeared, leaving a fully repaired set of glasses sitting upon Harry’s nose. She smirked at her job well done, and turned to face the red head across the compartment. The self congratulations on her face infuriated the other boy, his face turning red from suppressed rage. _My, so easy to rile up,_ Hermione mused, adding to Ron Weasely’s ever growing mental file. _And no ability to hide what he is thinking or feeling._

“Now then, boys, if I may,” Hermione stood up, “I have a toad to find. If you see one, do tell Neville or myself.” 

As she walked out of the compartment, their voices once more filtered down the corridor. Unaware that the door stood perfectly open for anyone to hear, the boy Ron began to rant about her. A stuck-up know-it-all, he raved. She felt her heart fall into her stomach. There she went, again, losing all ‘tact’ as her mother put it. She recalled her mother’s words of wisdom, how people did not like to feel threatened, be it by intelligence or physical means. 

With a sigh, she continued her way through the train. One or twice, she stumbled upon older students in compromising positions, logging what they looked like and where they were in her mental files. It wasn’t until she neared the front of the train that she ran into any more trouble. A group of three boys sauntered down the corridor, all of them, she noticed, in the blank robes of first years. Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, Hermione began to go around them, all the compartments around her occupied. 

A glint of mischief in the eyes of the ring leader told her they would not simply let her by. Hermione knew enough about bullies to recognize that look. She abhorred that hateful twinkle of malicious light, and groaned inside her head as the boys neared her. Experience taught her to take the initiative against trouble, and so she did.

“Hello,” she asked in a perky voice, hopefully annoying them. “Have you seen a toad anywhere?”

“Why? Lose one?” the blonde in the middle sniggered.

“No, I am helping a boy named Neville Longbottom,” she replied with a smile.

“Ah, Longbottom? That blood traitor?” he snorted. “I’m not surprised. My dad tells me that they are nothing but useless, squibs almost.” Tweedy dee and Tweedly dumb chuckled at this, as if the boy in the middle made the funniest joke. 

“You don’t say,” she responded. “Well, if that’s all, I’ll be on my way.”

As she hurried away, someone caught hold of her arm. A swift turn found her facing the ring leader. His grey eyes peered at her, critical and analytical. Despite the churning of her stomach, Hermione returned the stare. She would not allow this boy to get the best of her, stuffing the rage and embarrassment of being held by a boy into the depths of her mind. Her honey eyes regarded the boy with studied indifference, taking in the posh robes, gelled hair, and manicured fingers. He practically yelled rich, spoilt brat.

“Let me go,” she hissed. 

His eyes widened, finally noticing that it was _him_ gripping her arm. With a forceful squeeze, he let go and stepped back in a single, graceful motion. Hermione began to go around his goons, hoping that the blonde boy would finally be done with her. 

“I’m Draco,” he called, turning to face the retreating girl. “Draco Malfoy. This is Crabbe and Goyle.”

Hermione stopped, a couple meters not nearly enough space between her and the boys at her back. Her mother’s lessons echoed in her mind, and, against her better judgement, the brunette turned to face the boys. Instead of the ‘bully’ look, the boy, Draco, looked at her with masked interest. She supposed that others had to learn how to mask their emotions, unlike the red head from before. 

“Hermione Granger,” she answered.

“I haven’t seen you around before, so you’re not one of us,” he tilted his head to the side. “Are you a half-blood?” 

“No,” she replied slowly. If her history book was anything to go by, blood prejudice still ran rampant through certain circles in the wizarding world. While it was no longer popular to voice these beliefs, she mentally knew that it was going to be one of her challenges. “My parents are both muggles.” 

She knew, in that moment, she had lost yet another person on her list of potential friends. His face transformed from curious to disgusted, sneer in place. He regarded her like rubbish, nose scrunched as if smelling something particularly foul. The reality of prejudice sent a pang of pain through Hermione. However, pride prevented her from showing any of it. Instead, she watched him with detached interest. 

“You’re no better than Longbottom,” Draco Malfoy sneered. “Go back to where you belong, mudblood. Your kind is not welcomed here.” 

“Not welcomed,” she scoffed in return. If Hermione Granger knew one thing, it was how to defend herself. “I highly doubt that. In fact, I would wager that I knew more about magic than you do.”

“Impossible. Your kind doesn’t know up from down in the wizarding world,” he smirked, a malicious glint returning to his eyes. “I doubt you’ll ever amount to half of one of us, let alone be better. Go back to where you belong.”

“If you haven’t noticed,” she said, “The train is almost at school. Last I checked, I can’t go back, and I won’t.”

“Heh, well, it’s not like you’ll do much. I bet they’ll send you home by tomorrow, crying to mum and dad because you just didn’t belong here,” he sneered. “I bet you’ll even end up in some stupid house, like Hufflepuff or Gryffindor. Everyone knows that only the most powerful and smartest end up in Slytherin.”

“You know what,” she snapped, finally reaching her breaking point. “I know I belong here. If it’s the last thing I do before I die, I will prove it to every last one of you,” she hissed and began stepping forward. Draco’s eyes narrowed at her until she stood right in front of him, prodding him with her finger. “I will be the best witch your precious, wizarding world has ever seen, and I’ll make every pureblooded know and respect my name.”

She turned on her heel and began walking away, head held high. The boys stood in stunned silence behind her as she continued to make her way down the corridor. Shocked silence enveloped them, and Hermione couldn’t be happier. She resolved to act as dignified and refined as she could, not letting everyone else see her emotions, especially bullies like Draco Malfoy.

Once she found an empty compartment, Hermione closed the door and locked it. Her back fell along the wall onto a cushioned seat, her mind preoccupied. Hot, angry tears leaked from the edge of her vision. Hermione had hoped beyond hope that she had finally escaped them, the bullies, the ones who thought nothing of her. How wrong she had been! Even now, her parent’s voice rung in her ears: don’t give up, and don’t let them see you. Their words strengthened her, tears stopping at last.

Mustering herself once more, her sorrow and pain morphed into rage. Not the burning inferno, but a cold, sizzling feeling, encasing her. She knew now what she wanted to do at this school. Not just learn, no. It was more that that. Hermione resolved she would make a statement, so loud and impossible that no one will forget her. 

She will become the best Slytherin to grace the halls of Hogwarts, even if it killed her.

Leaving the compartment a few moments later, she meandered until she found Neville back, toad in hand. She made small talk and smiled at the boy until the train began to slow. With new found resolution, Hermione donned her Hogwarts robes and uniform. The thunder of footsteps outside cued her and Neville to leave. She watched older students mill about with their ties and scarves, robes emblazoned with crests. As a particularly proud pair of teens passed her, she caught sight of their green and silver ties, green inner trimming of their cloak, and the snake upon their chest.

_That will be mine,_ she thought as she left the train and stepped into her new world. 


	2. A Very Merry Unwelcome to You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, Hermione starts step one of her plan: Get into Slytherin. Once there, the start is bumpy, about what she expected. Nasty Housemates, rude Gryffindors, and social ostracizing leave her in a familiar place. She won’t let it get her down, nor ruin her plans.

Words fell from her mouth, an aural waterfall of facts and trivia as she sat in the small boat headed towards the secret, mysterious castle. Next to her sat the pale Neville, pallid face and droplets of sweat upon his brow and upper lip all telling Hermione about the boy’s nerves. She tried to comfort him, hoping her ramblings will distract him enough. God knows she spoke only so her open mouth didn’t fall to the ground.

A snide, haughty laugh came somewhere to her left, and the magic of the moment forgotten. Hermione spied a head of heavily gelled blonde hair, laughing at some poor child. It wasn’t until she felt her own boat rocking that she realized it was Neville. She caught the large stick too late, already poking the soft side of her boat-mate. A high pitch squeak echoed through the still night before the boy tumbled over board.

Hermione scowled at Malfoy, willing all her dislike and distaste into her glare. He simply smirked in answer, goading her. They both knew it, too. However, she turned with a huff. The massive game keeper soon had Neville next to her again. The rest of the trip passed uneventfully, allowing her to marvel at the massive, fairytale castle before her. She could barely keep her excitement to herself.

Before she knew it, they were standing in front of solid oak double doors. Black wrought iron shone in the torchlight. Rambling, Hermione discovered, became a nervous habit of hers. When in doubt, talk. So she did, quietly commenting and questioning about things, the sorting, the school, classes, what they would be like. 

“So, Potter, what do you say?” an insufferable, familiar voice carried across the group. Hermione rolled her eyes, knowing Malfoy wanted to draw as much attention to himself as possible. “Why don’t you make friends with the right people?”

“I think I can pick my own friends, thanks,” Harry answered cooly after a long moment of silence.

“Are you sure about rejecting my offer?” the blonde boy persisted with a mask of indifference.

“He said no, Malfoy,” Hermione sneered. “Get it through your thick skull. Not everyone wants to be your friend.”

Shock and awe jolted through the room at her response. A palpable hush descended upon the group, waiting for the next move. Hermione held her chin high as she saw royalty often do, and leveled a challenging stare at the young blonde. He appeared incensed, his cheeks flushing and eyes narrowing at the girl before him. Hermione knew this game too well, unfortunately, and simply raised a brow. A sense of satisfaction swept through her as she saw a scowl blossom upon his face. 

“First years, line up please,” the crisp Scottish tones of Professor McGonagall pierced through the moment.

Tension instantly dissolved as excited, nervous energy resurfaced. Hermione stayed close to Neville, following him into the hall. A buzz of excitement when through everyone as they stood in the middle aisle, two long, decorated tables on either side of her. She knew, from _Hogwarts: A History,_ that each table seated each of the four houses: Slytherin, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Gryffindor. 

As a ratty hat began to talk and rhyme, Hermione’s mind raced through thoughts. She could only guess what order they were to be sorted, most likely alphabetic. She almost growled, realizing that it meant she wouldn’t know what house that jerk would be in before her turn. She watched as a chubby girl, Hannah Abbott, went to the stool and placed the hat on her head. A moment later, it yelled “HUFFLEPUFF!” and the yellow and black table erupted into an uproar. 

So that is how the sorting work, she mused. She watched as child after child sat upon the stool and donned the hat. Apprehension swirled around her. Hermione knew that he had mentioned Slytherin. Her research, though brief and limited, revealed it to be a house renown for cleverness, cunning, and ambition. Known for the great amount of power people, many were also associated with the Dark Arts. Thus, most of the school quite detested the House.

“Granger, Hermione,” the stern professor called out.

Hermione gulped, pushing down her fears and steeling her resolve. Once more, she held herself as she saw British nobility do before her. She would not show her fear or apprehension. She would never concede such a defeat. She sat, determined, as the large hat fell over her eyes.

“Why hello, Miss Granger, aren’t you the interesting one,” a voice murmured into her mind. She nearly jumped out of the stool right there and then, opting to grip the base of the stool. “Now, now, no need to for that. I am simply taking a little look at your mind. You have great intellect and cleverness, spirit and bravery, as well.”

She sat still as the seconds ticked by, almost ready to count her heart beats. Who had ever heard of a sentient hat, of all things? Was there a scarf for something as silly as romantic preference?

“Indeed there is, Miss Granger, but that is not what we are here for,” it cooed. “I see great things before you, and no matter the path, fame, glory, and repute. Is that not what you want? I know Gryffindor will serve you well in that respect.”

A slight panic filtered through her brain. How was she to prove that stupid boy wrong if she were in another House? From their two encounters, she could tell he would blame everything else, never admit it, not unless they had a level playing field. Well, she amended, as level as we can get.

“Oh, an interesting choice. Yes, Slytherin would fit you quite well,” it mused. “Quick wits, cunning, and even a ruthless streak. Ah, don’t be so surprised, dear, that’s the reason you want Slytherin. They will both serve you well, and you will leave your mark before you leave this school.”

“I know,” Hermione found herself thinking to the hat, “But I have to do this. I have to prove myself, to show them. I don’t want to run away.”

“And what a Gryffindor trait that is, my love,” the hat grinned. How, she had no clue. “Bravery, compassion, loyalty, those are all of the Lion as well, little one.”

“I don’t care,” she thought. “I _need_ to do this!”

“If that’s the case, you belong in…” hat murmured before falling silent in her mind. She swore she felt the hat probing around her mind, poking it for one last examination.

“SLYTHERIN!”

Light assaulted her eyes as the Great Hall came into view once more. The green and silver table to the far left roared their approval. She noticed the looks of the other tables, hateful, resentful, and generally nasty. Jeers from them carried across the hall, as a pair of red-head twins boo’d her. _Most likely the twin brothers of Ron Weasley that tricked him,_ she reasoned with a roll of her eyes.

As she stood, Hermione looked through the line of first years to find Draco Malfoy, eyes bugging out of his skull. She smirked at the boy and flipped her bushy, brown hair over her shoulder. Back straight, chin high, she walked to the cheering table of snakes. She smiled and sat down next to another first year, praying the whole time that she would not trip and ruin the image.

“Hello, I’m Millicent,” a girl with black hair leaned over. Hermione remembered her, Bulstrode or some such. 

“I’m Hermione Granger,” she answered with a small smile. Though, she knew that if Malfoy’s reaction was anything to go by, this girl wouldn’t be willing to be her friend. “Just so you know, I am a muggle born.”

The change instantaneous. Inside, Hermione cringed and almost cried as the same look of revulsion and surprise overcame her face. _Seriously,_ she thought, _can I make just one friend here? Please?_ Instead, Millicent narrowed her eyes at the brunette, thinking hard.

“How could they sort a mudblood here,” she hissed. 

“Don’t ask me, ask the hat,” she rolled her eyes. 

“It’s impossible,” she murmured. “Maybe you’re a witch somewhere and just don’t know it.” 

Hermione simply shrugged and turned to face the dwindling line of unsorted first years. Before the hat even touched the platinum locks of Draco Malfoy, it bellowed “SLYTHERIN!” He swaggered over the table, smirking as he observed the House. Hermione grinned as he spotted her there, grey eyes narrowed as he sneered. She smiled at him, knowing that all the grief would be worth it one day.

“Millicent, don’t you know to stay way from animals?” He drawled as he walked by.

Before she could respond, he walked down the table to sit with his two goons, Crabbe and Goyle. Hermione chuckled softly at the death glares sent her way. Tempted to return them by blowing a kiss, she forced herself to turn forward once more. No way was she going to let these people intimidate her. At least, not that easily. 

Another girl joined the table and sat across from Millicent soon after. Her black hair and pug-like nose were accentuated with her face, looking as if she was perpetually smelling something horrible. The three pureblood girls whispered amongst themselves, leaving Hermione alone. _Again._

“You’re a mudblood?” the new girl gasped, staring at Hermione.

“And what of it?” Hermione challenged once more. _This is getting old fast,_ she groaned internally.

“We don’t accept your kind here,” she snipped, making her nose scrunch up even more.

“Unfortunately for you, I don’t care,” Hermione sighed, trying to act distant and indifferent. She must have succeeded from the noise coming from the other girl. “The hat put me here same as you, if you are against it, then go to the Headmaster.” 

“Why you,” the other girl gasped.

“Pansy, it’s not worth it,” Millicent murmured, putting a hand on pug girl’s shoulder. 

“Not worth it?” she hissed, noticing the odd looks aimed at her. “She’s a mudblood, worse than an animal, and in the great House of Slytherin? That is entirely unacceptable! It hasn’t happened in, well, ever probably.”

“The last muggle born to be sorted into Slytherin was Vincent Argil in 1723. That’s 268 years, not ‘never’,” Hermione replied, catching the girls’ attention. “He ended up being one of the best, most progressive potion masters of modern times, invented several healing and dark brews, once out of school. At Hogwarts, he was the three time Quidditch captain, played seeker, undefeated during that time, and awarded Head Boy. Rather successful, I must say.”

The girls, all three of them, gaped at her. Hermione smirked once more, thanking God for her ability to retain facts and her curiosity. Reading the dry History of Magic book over the summer holiday certainly helped her. She watched as Pansy worked her mouth trying to retort or respond.

“Now then, I suggest you close your mouths before something flies in there,” Hermione dismissed them with a grin. 

Before anyone could respond, the headmaster gave a rather odd speech and the feast began. By dessert, whispers ran up and down the table, and some along the hall. People were either stealing glances at her or at Harry Potter. No one knew which one presented more intrigue. She knew, from the distant and cold looks, that information of her parentage circulated amongst her new House. She was no fool, and felt the malice and hate all around her.

No one spoke to her, looked at her, or even sat near her. She took it all in stride, a sad reminder that this was not new. Her first year of primary school, one of the other girls had bothered her. Something strange happened, though. Instead of crying or running away, the girl disappeared only to be found that night in a dark, damp crawl space.

Ever since, rumors centered around her, though there was no way a child could lock another in that space. Since then, no one talked to her unless absolutely necessary. It’s how she discovered her love of books, though, and Hermione found herself grateful for that small comfort. In fact, if she were being brutally honest, this didn’t feel any different. 

At the end of their meal, the old headmaster spoke some more, telling them what was off limits and out of bounds, laying out some changes, and introducing the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Then, a green and silver clad student with a badge stood up, ushering the first years to follow. By the oaken doors of the entrance hall, they came face to face with the Gryffindors. 

“Yeah, I can’t believe that muggle got sorted into _Slytherin_ ,” she overheard the annoying voice of Ron Weasley.

“I thought you told me that they don’t like muggle borns,” Harry Potter asked, raising an eyebrow.

“She not so bad,” Neville commented. “I-I mean, s-she helped me f-find Trevor.”

“Probably so you’re in her debt,” Ron snorted. Hermione rolled her eyes. “I mean, you know all Slytherins are evil!” 

“Isn’t that a bit harsh?” Neville whimpered.

“No! Don’t you know what they did to Harry? To the world? You-Know-Who was one of them,” Ron growled. “The lot of them are just His nasty spawn, especially her, and-“

He never finished that sentence. Hermione forcefully rammed her shoulder against him as she strode forward. Ron stumbled and fell on his face to the great amusement of the Slytherins in line with her. Laughter echoed around the hall for a moment, and Hermione allowed herself an amused glance. He looked around wildly until he found her eyes.

“You,” he exclaimed from the ground, eyes wide.

“Oops,” Hermione gasped, fake worry and concern in her tone. “I didn’t see you there. I’d offer help to you up, but then I’d infect you. Evil, muggle, and cooties, the trifecta.”

“Why you little-“ Ron, now up thanks to Harry Potter, nearly lunged at her.

“She’s not worth it,” his friend pushed him back. “Anyways, we have to catch up.”

“Next time you intend to insult me,” Hermione hissed as she leaned close to the two boys, “I advise you to make sure I can’t hear, or, if you’re a coward, when an adult is around.” 

She turned on her heel and caught up with the rest of her House, who appeared to have watched the altercation. She flushed, part amused, part embarrassed as she caught up to the group. With a muttered apology, the continued and took a sharp turn towards the dungeon stairs. 

Thoughts consumed the brunette as she wandered into the bowels of the castle. There was a flash of emotion akin to interest. She shrugged the thought off, attributing it to exhaustion and irritation. The day had been long and trying, and thus far she failed at her largest goal. Somehow, she went from a train full of potential friends to zero. She sighed inwardly, hoping they had finally descended enough stairs. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I mentioned before, I don’t think that people would be quite happy with her in the House, and while they don’t torture her as openly as other Houses, it takes some truly devious and Slytherin behavior to convince her new House she belongs. She displays a bit here, and I’m sorry if she seems too OOC. I promise it will come full circle in the next chapter.
> 
> Just remember how she was with Malfoy: cutting, witty, and snide. She matched him wit for wit, insult for insult, because he was an enemy and rival. Well, flip her house around, and those same wits are turned against Harry and Ron, though Pansy is still a familiar target. Also, I’d like to note that I dislike writing super large chapters. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!


	3. Meet the House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione stood in the snake’s den for the first time, unsure of what to do. Singled out and alone, she find support in the most unusual places. Maybe, just maybe, she thinks she can do this.

“Now, we hold a House meeting the meal after and the night before all holidays,” the prefect explained.

Hermione stole glances of her new common room. Not wanting to look too amazed or interested, she took in the understated elegance and luxury. The ceiling and windows, instead of looking out into the grounds, displayed inky, black water. The occasional fish or merperson flew by, and Hermione swore she saw part of a tentacle as wide as her flit through the darkness.

Heavy, velvet curtains draped along the windows, emerald and soft. Instead of normal cushy chairs and couches that Hermione expected, green upholstered chaises and sofas adorned dark, walnut furniture. Desks of similar styles and handsome chairs were scattered throughout the room, creating a cohesive study space. Beneath her feet, an intricate emerald and silver rug softened and warmed the cold, shining floors. 

By some magic, her shoes were ‘replaced’ with ‘house shoes’ as soon as she stepped over the threshold. The other first years seemed to understand the etiquette, leaving Hermione to guess the reason to preserve the well made, most likely invaluable, rugs around the common room. 

The whole room screamed old money, and Hermione found herself gulping, wondering if she got herself in over her head. While her parents were by no means poor, they did not have these types of amenities and luxuries. A flash of information invaded her mind. _Most pureblood witches and wizards come for generations upon generations of money, most working their either lives to increase their financial legacy to continue onto the next generation._

“The meeting will start in a bit. You are free to look around,” the prefect looked at each of them, lingering on Hermione. “The only rule is you have to be here when we assemble.” 

Hermione nodded, and walked towards the fireplace. On either side were large book shelves. Choosing one on the history of her new House, she sat on one of the chaises and began to read.

——————————————

“Annalie,” the dark haired prefect grinned as he walked towards the other fifth year prefect. “Have you heard?”

“That we have a mudblood in our house, now?” the blonde snorted. “It’s been the hot new topic. I’m sure everyone knows by now, Jeremy.”

“Yeah, well, get this,” he began. He told the story as quickly as he could, before the seventh year prefects would call to order the meeting. By the end, the blonde girl before him studied him intently, her brown eyes glancing at the bushy haired bookworm. “What do you think?”

“She seems too nice,” Annalie mused aloud. “For Merlin’s sake, she went around the train today looking for some other kid’s lost toad.”

“I know,” Jeremy snorted, blue eyes still upon her face. “She has potential, though. I heard from this lot that she stood up to the little Malfoy brat twice already, though. Once on the train and then right before they entered the hall for the Sorting. Apparently, she also shut down the Parkinson kid.”

“Interesting,” the girl murmured, watching her determined expression. She knew that the other first years, and some of the second years, were crowding just close enough that she could hear their snide, nasty remarks. It didn’t surprise her. What did was the young girl’s ability to ignore them, as if they didn’t matter. “I will admit you have piqued my interest. Now, what do you want?”

“I think she could become House royalty,” he smirked, mischief in his eyes. “Smart, quick, cutting, ambitious. I’m sure those are qualities good ol’ Salazar would appreciate himself. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised by the end of the year if she became one of their little leaders.” 

“What are you trying to say, your highness,” she sniggered. 

Politics ruled the house of snakes. Instead of a democracy, though, the house had an unofficial monarchy, age didn’t matter to them. If a fifth year or sixth year had enough clout and support, they became the leader of the house.Usually there as a prince and princess or, if particularly magnetic and powerful, a king and queen. Any Slytherin with brains could see the Malfoy boy, while a spoilt brat, had every quality needed. He would become a king in due time, a dangerous one at that.

Annalie reflected on these facts, watching the girl. Wild hair could be tamed, and the curls were both angelic and misleading, especially on a face like her’s. Yes, she had the potential to be lethally gorgeous. She would need quite a bit of instruction, being a mudblood and all, but Annalie knew the advantages of having one on their side. In fact, it could change the whole power scheme of Hogwarts.

“What a Slytherin plan of you, Jeremy,” she grinned. “A mudblood Queen of Slytherin. What would the rest of the world do?”

“You’ll think about it then?” he whispered, glancing at the current rulers starting to separate from their year mates. 

“Maybe,” she replied, coy grin upon her face.

“Thank you, your highness,” he took her hand in his and kissed the knuckles with a bow. “What better way for her to learn than from the current princess?”

She chuckled in reply.

——————————————

“Settle down, everyone, settle,” a black haired teen called out. “Everyone get to your spots, then we can begin the new year meeting..”

A rustle of movement came through the room. Hermione returned her book to the shelf, making a mental note to ask how borrowing them worked. When she arrived to the first year spot, she stood apart from her year mates. Her attend focused on seventh year before her, Malfoy’s hateful glare escaped her notice.

“Welcome to the new school year,” he said with a grin. “As many of you know, I am Anthony Thornick. First off, I have a few general points to cover. First, remember the passages in and out of the dungeons. If you are going to be out after curfew, use them. I don’t want to have to deduct house points from sloppy or lazy people. We want to win the house cup, yeah?”

A round of assenting motions and vocalizations greeting the last statement. Hermione tilted her head to the side, suddenly curious. She was rather competitive, and couldn’t turn a challenge down. If it meant proving her worth, she was more than ready to do her part.

“Next, beware Filch, Peeves, and the Weasley twins. I know some of you got into spats with them last term,” his pointed glare went to a few of the older kids, “But that is another useless waste of points. If you must counter their pranks, do not get caught.”

A fair haired boy, about fourteen years old, muttered a loud, “why is he looking at us?” that brought a round of chuckles and sniggers to the room. It appeared their antics were well known as well as the rivalry. Hermione hid a smile of her own behind her hand. Maybe they weren’t all bad after all.

“Finally, there was a rumor going around the feast today,” Anthony said, looking around the room with deliberate purpose. “I heard that the Sorting Hat put a mudblood into our house.”

Silence cocooned the room, no one able to so much as look at the commanding glare of their leader. For a second, the whole world stopped for Hermione. An epiphany struck her. At this moment, she would finally and truly fail her ‘make a friend’ mission. However, her pride would never allow someone else, like Malfoy or Pansy, to expose her. Taking a deep breath, she stepped forward.

“That’d be me,” she announced as calmly as possible. “Hermione Granger.”

A gasp went through most of the room. Those who knew watched her with varied emotions. She knew that the two stuck ups looked at her with malicious glee. Millicent, from what Hermione saw, appeared fidgety and nervous. To the left, though, were the most interesting. The two fifth year prefects stood together. The boy’s eyes twinkled with mischief and amusement, as if anticipating the next move of a chess opponent. Blond hair tilted to the side as she watched Hermione, regarding her with interest.

Hermione, however, could not spare more than a split second on the observations. Her eyes could barely leave those of the seventh year in front of her. His chocolate eyes regarded her with a cold, calculating stare. He slowly approached her, taking a turn about her. Hermione did her best not to fidget or move, knowing that a few restless movements escaped her. Done with his assessment, the boy looked to the rest of the room, watching in silent anticipation.

“So then, we can’t give her to another house,” Anthony mused aloud, clearly intending for everyone to hear. “Resorting is not an option, however, I am sure several of our dearly departed are rolling in their graves. That leaves us the question of what do we do with her?”

Hermione stared straight ahead, watching the leader of her house. She knew that everyone was staring at her, most were less than hospitable. Voices rose, trying to outdo the others. Everything from killing her to snubbing her, locking her away, and even forcing their Head of House to get her expelled were suggested. She fought the horrified expression that threatened to overtake her features, instead trying to think of facts and observations, finding their objective nature soothing.

Hot anger and anguish rose within her, however, as she took in their words. It took all she had to keep stinging tears from her eyes. She refused to show weakness in front of these people, it would only confirm their thoughts and theories on her kind. No, she decided, she would be a bastion, an ambassador for muggle borns everywhere. She bit the inside of her cheek, both to help ground her and to keep herself from crying.

“Silence,” Anthony boomed. Instant and immediate obedience followed his command, and everyone watched him warily. “She’s Slytherin, that much is certain. Whether we like it or not, the Sorting Hat put her here, and it has never placed someone unworthy into our House. The last thing we need is ammunition for everyone else, chasing off a mudblood. No, I’ve made my choice.

“We’re going to keep her,” he stated, finality in his tone and posture. “I don’t care what you do or say when you’re alone or in our common room. If you want to torment her, go ahead. Leave no traces. However, in front of everyone else, no one is allowed to insult, hurt, otherwise doubt our claim on her. That includes other Houses. We may not like it or agree with it, but she is one of us, and as such the rest of the school needs to know it.

“Think it through, like the Slytherins you are,” he growled after a moment of silence, gripping the back of a walnut chair. “A mudblood on our side? Us ‘supporting’ her? We’ll be able to stuff it down everyone’s judgmental throats. She’ll have enough time with us alone to get what she deserves, and learn her place.”

Reluctantly, most of the house agreed with him, shooting her nasty glares and glances. Hermione never felt so exposed and vulnerable. She truly stepped out of the pan and into the fryer, and knew her world will be hell until she convinces someone, anyone, otherwise. Then, she reasoned, she would chip away at the rest of the house. These thoughts were the only ones that kept her going. 

“Now then, I need to see the first years and the fifth years,” he briskly stated, brushing invisible lint off his robes. “Everyone else is dismissed.”

——————————————

“That was intense,” Jeremy chuckled as he followed Annalie to the front.

“Understatement of the day,” she snorted in response.

“Seriously, though, did you see her?” he chuckled. “Girl has guts, I’ll give her that. Not breaking down and crying as people shouting to kill you?”

“She’s something alright,” Annalie nodded, her mind set.

——————————————

Hermione remained where she stood, not daring to get any closer to the any other student. She watched as her year mates went closer to Anthony. Several jostled her as they walked by, and soon the fifth years stood behind him. Thoughts swirled in her mind, her curiosity awakened by the odd request, forcing her to stuff down her tumultuous emotions.

“Welcome and congratulations first years, for being sorted into the Great House of Slytherin,” the black haired boy nodded at each of them, even Hermione. “Now, as a member of Slytherin, each of you will be expected to live up to a certain standard. We are the best house, the most powerful witches and wizards stood here, and wore silver and green with pride. Many still do to this day.”

Several of the first years in front of her beamed with joy and pride at each other. Emotions roiled and boiled once more. Instead of giving them release, she added those kind of looks to her list of things to achieve. She could not allow them to distract her now.

“As Slytherins, there are certain skills that even Slytherin parents are not allowed to teach their child,” he continued in clipped tones, knocking the joy out of several people. Hermione smirked at them. “To do that, we assign each first year a corresponding fifth year. For the next two years, they will be your mentor, your teacher, and authority on all things regarding tradition, behavior, and what is expected of you.

“The choice is up to the fifth year, of course,” Anthony said with a nod behind him. “Once you have mentor, your mistakes and triumphs will be shared with that person. If you are in trouble, they will mete the punishment. If you are rewarded, they will choose the prize for you. You are to carry out their orders and assignments as if they are a professor. Understood?”

The eleven year olds all nodded together, earning an answering nod from the teen before them. Hermione noticed the fifth years all looking at her with disgust. It became obvious that, no matter who chose her, no one would really want her. She’d have to walk a fine line, and resolved to be even better, if only to avoid punishment.

“Fifth years, line up,” Anthony commanded and nodded when they were done. “Now then, choose your apprentice.” 

First stood the prefect from before. His eyes glittered with mischief and secret knowledge. When she caught her eyes, he winked at her. At that moment, Hermione knew that a plan was afoot. No one in their right mind would wink otherwise, especially not after some of the creative threats she recently received. 

“Draco Malfoy,” he grinned. “Come over here, mate.” 

The blond boy nearly skipped up to his new mentor, a smug look upon his face. Hermione scowled. Of course, he’d get the only decent person in the room. She willed herself to look blank, not to dwell on the situation, or the events of the past few hours. A beautiful blonde girl stepped up next, regarding the class. Her eyes landed on Hermione, and she tilted her head to the side as if thinking.

“I want her,” she mused. “I want the mudblood, Hermione Granger.”

For the second time that night, the world stopped for Hermione. She heard murmurs and mutters from the other fifth years, warning their friend to not do this. However, her commanding gaze never faltered, and Hermione found herself next to the fifth year within moments. 

“Come on, then, Granger,” she murmured. “Head and chin up, back straight, that’s right. Don’t let anyone see weaknesses. Your face indifferent, not blank, don’t want people thinking you’re as daft as mudbloods are said to be.”

Hermione followed each order from the older girl. Even if her voice was stern and cold, her spirits lightened. This may not be a friendship, they may never really like each other, but Hermione gained an ally. As she walked through the common room to an alcove, Hermione saw all the other first years stare at her in shock, the fifth years shaking their heads sadly. She even saw Draco Malfoy, a silent snarl on his face. Next to him, Jeremy the prefect grinned. Eyebrow raised in question, the boy shook his head and turned back to his protege.

“My name is Annalie Southington, a branch of the Nott family,” the blond girl before her said as she sat in the chaise Hermione occupied earlier. She patted the seat, and Hermione settled down as well. “I am here to mentor you upon the standards and traditions of Slytherin House. To do this, I will also teach you wizarding traditions and behavior. Think of me as your finishing tutor for the next two years.”

Her bush of brown hair bobbed up and down in understanding. Finishing schools were for ladies of rank and for those of high society. Hermione’s parents, while wealthy enough, were still below them. Not quite middle class, but not quite upper class either. Hopefully, this wouldn’t be too difficult.

“We shall begin tomorrow. Breakfast and dinner will be spent with me, and I will teach you how to dine and converse like a lady,” she instructed, though her eyes swam with amusement. “Slytherins typically encourage wit, so think not of it as a way to stamp out your personality, but rather, a way to channel it properly.”

Hermione raised an eyebrow at this. She never thought of manners and etiquette as anything but restrictions upon her. No elbows on the table. Don’t talk with your mouth full of food. Do not say this. Don’t use that fork until this course.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Annalie continued after a moment. “ I wanted to know if the rumors were true.”

“Which rumors?” Hermione asked, confused.

“Just the ones that involve a certain Slytherin and a couple of Gryffindorks,” Annlie smirked at her.

“Was I not supposed to do that?” Hermione asked, embarrassment and uncertainty flooding her being again.

“Of course you were,” she grinned at the confused first year before her. “The first rule of being a Slytherin: never let anyone intimidate you. Rule number two: Give them hell.” 

Hermione regarded the older girl with intelligent contemplation. It made sense. Instead of letting Draco Malfoy or Ron Weasley push her around, she responded in kind. Even her altercation with Pansy at the table followed the same formula. 

“So, don’t leave me hanging,” Annalie chuckled softly. “Give me all the juicy details!”

——————————————

Some time later, Annalie sat in the common room, staring at the flames before her. Her young apprentice had much to learn, but, judging from their tete-a-tete, Hermione appeared to be a quick learner. The stress the poor girl would be under worried Annlie greatly. She knew from the first moments of their conversation that she bled sliver and green like everyone else in her house. Her cunning wit, clever comments, and streak of determination would make Salazar proud.

After showing her to her dorm, Annalie shared a secret spot with the first year. Something told her that the girl would need it quite a bit more than she. A quiet alcove behind the portrait of the first female Slytherin head of house provided the needed privacy the young Slytherin would need in the upcoming years.. Malinda only swung open for the exceptional, be it in practice or potential. Annalie would be lying if she said she wasn’t proud of having a distinguished protege. 

The little alcove would prove perfect for their private meetings, and, well, a place that young Granger could go and vent. People discriminated against Melinda for this same reason, a halfblooded witch in Slytherin at the time was unthinkable, and so the portrait took the mudblood under her wing. Strong silencing and privacy wards and charms surrounded the little room, making it unplottable and silent from outside. Indeed, the young first year looked upon the verge of tears several times this evening.

“What do you think?” a boy her age asked, the couch dipping under his weight.

“Promising. Melinda likes her, at least,” she replied, eyes still on the dancing flames. 

“Really?” Jeremy quirked a brow. “That’s always impressive. She rather hates everyone, doesn’t she?” 

“For the most part,” she smirked. Melinda had a soft spot for her, and Annalie rather enjoyed the distinction. “Granger, though, she’ll be a force to reckon with when I’m done with her.”

“What are you two planning,” a wary, tired baritone asked behind them.

“Why, didn’t you know, Tony,” Jeremy grinned at the boy behind him. “We are planning total Hogwarts domination. A mudblood and a scion of pureblood tradition to lead our great House into the future? Who can stop them?”

“She did seem quite interesting,” the older boy grudgingly admitted. “Fidgeted a bit when I walked around her, but nothing that can’t be corrected. I expected her to burst out in tears hone she heard people asking for her head.”

“Yeah, well, she didn’t want to appear weak,” Annalie spoke up. “She’s been bullied her whole life. Apparently, she banished a kid when she was young, and all the muggles shunned her afterwards. Once she recovers from all of this, she’ll start getting people on her side. Hell, if Gina is right, the Bulstrode girl may be the first.”

“From what she told me, the girl is going to give Malfoy a run for his money,” Anthony smirked. "Gina related some interesting stories."

“I believe it,” Jeremy chuckled. "I watched her deal with a couple of Gryffindorks in the Great Hall. She definitely has what it takes."

“That is a day I wish I’d be around to see,” Anthony joined in, sharing a wry grin with the other prefects.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Overreactions from hell, really. I mean, do you really expect people to just welcome her with open arms? It takes a role in a very Slytherin plan to find acceptance and a bit of traction. Don’t worry, she’ll be kicking ass and taking names shortly. I am actually enjoying writing this a lot more than I thought I would.


	4. The Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a disastrous night, Hermione finds herself starting a new year. Breakfast provides to be both instructive and interesting, though perhaps now how she thought she’d start the term.

The next morning dawned, bright and cheery. Dappled light shone upon Hermione’s face as light filtered through the lake. Pointed hands informed the young witch the time, half six to be exact. A soft moan later, she finally decided to emerge from her emerald, silken sheets. The warmth provided by the embroidered duvet and plush pillows drained out her feet as they walked across the cold stone floor. 

She looked around the small dorm, memories of the previous night filling her with dread. She had been sorted into Slytherin, perhaps the most inhospitable House. Threatened and humiliated, she braved their scrutiny. Annalie, her new mentor, told her what to expect in the coming days, and advised her on her schedule. 

Hermione thanked her lucky stars to have someone to watch out for her. She didn’t know nor care for the older girl’s reasons, only relieved that she, at least, appeared to care for her well being. 

The first year’s bathroom had, once more, caught Hermione by surprise. Marble floors and columns held the spacious room aloft, clawed tubs and ornate sinks dominated one corridor, while the showers and vanities took another. Above each station, an engraved plaque named the owner. She saw the other girls trying to open her drawers the night before, and reasoned they were enchanted so only she could open her draws.

Warm steam filled the room within moments, and, within a quarter hour, Hermione sat, plush towel hanging to dry. She attempted to tame her hair, but, as she did every morning, lost the fight. With a heavy sigh, the marched out, meaning to meet her blonde mentor in the common room.

_“Before I release you, here are your instructions,” the beautiful girl in front of her said. “You will meet me every morning at half past seven. We will go down to the Great Hall, and you shall sit to my left. When I give you instructions, you will listen, and, unless told otherwise, obey them immediately. Understand that I do not have time to explain every little action nor reason you into them. If needed, you may ask me at a later time, preferably when we are away from others._

_“Every evening, we shall meet at quarter to six in the common room and go to dinner. Afterwards, you and I will have an hour lesson either in the common room or library. I will be assigning reading and homework, so do keep up,” Annalie instructed, a calculating, intense gaze watching her the whole time._

_“I understand,” Hermione murmured with a nod._

That is how Hermione found herself at quarter after seven sitting on the chaise from the night before. Her school bag sat on one end, while she had the history book opened to where she left it the night before. As she turned the page, absorbed in some detail about the founding of certain rooms, the book suddenly flew out of her hands.

Across the room stood Annalie, fresh and beautiful as always, with an amused smirk on her face. Hermione flushed as she looked at her watch, reading it seven thirty-five. She grimaced and walked over towards the other girl. Watching her eyes narrow, Hermione remembered last night’s instructions and hurried to obey: head up, chin out, back straight, no shame, no embarrassment.

“Punctuality, Granger, is a virtue, one you will do well to learn,” the witch before her stated. She flipped through the book idly before handing it back to Hermione. “Excellent choice, by the way. This is every important information. Most of the other students here will know all of this. I want it read by the end of the week.” 

Hermione nodded as she nearly trotted to keep up with Annalie’s strides. She stuffed the book into her satchel and began the task of memorizing he way to the Great Hall. During the whole walk, she listened as Annalie told her what to expect from the other houses and the professors. A gulp of apprehension and look of general unease shone on Hermione’s face as they approached the large, double doors.

“Slytherin rule number three,” Annalie said with a sudden stop and turn to face Hermione. “Do no allow them to see your emotions. If they know what you are feeling, people will use it against you. Do you understand?”

Hermione nodded, not sure what to say. She looked at her mentor’s coffee color eyes and saw instantly what she meant. Hermione couldn’t tell what the older girl was feeling. Her eyes were neutral, mouth curved in a slight smile, nose relaxed, and ears a normal shade. Hermione tried to copy the expression, create her own mask of indifference and ease. Words echoed through her mind; _all the world’s a stage, and all men and women merely players._

“That will do for now,” Annalie nodded. “We shall work on it this evening. Right now, I’m hungry enough to eat a hippogriff.”

Hermione smiled, tentative and shy, at the girl, before following her into the Great Hall. Conversation hummed in the air as only half the room appeared to be filled. Voices hushed as she passed by, Annalie’s words echoing through her mind. She tried her best to appear unaffected by the sudden rush of words as soon as she walked away. 

People decided to test her new resolve, though. They whispered and muttered such vehement things about her, she could blush. One particular Ravenclaw said that she must be the illegitimate child of some heir or such, abandoned to muggles. His friend retorted that she’ll be just as bad as her house mates, while a third sneered at her, saying she’ll never make a friend here.

Hermione sat to Annalie’s left with a heavy heart. While she could ignore the other comments, she knew that winning anyone to be her friend would be tough. Looking up and down the table, she saw that few people were at the Slytherin table, only a handful scattered around. 

“Ah, before I forget,” Annalie muttered, digging through her bag. From the bottom, she presented a journal to Hermione. “I want you to record all your lessons and homework from me here. It is enchanted so only Slytherins can read it.”

Hermione inspected the book with awe, unsure of what to say. Black leather covered the book, with a silver embossed snake slithering along the bottom. Curled script in the center read ‘Hermione Jean Granger,’ glimmering in the light. Parchment page whispered against her skin as she slipped through the empty book. 

“Thank you,” she murmured, reverent and soft. 

“Do not thank me just yet,” the older girl winked. “At the beginning of first year, mentors tend to give their apprentices a journal to record things in. It is a House tradition. The book is water and fire proof, will add pages as needed, and will keep to that size. Besides, you have much to learn.”

Hermione nodded and gave the girl next to her a broad smile before she turned to her plate. Filling it with breakfast foods, Annalie providing a running commentary on the importance of diet, she settled down to eat. For a few minutes, they ate in silence, every now and again the older girl giving quiet instructions. 

A full quarter hour passed before anyone else settled by the pair. As a rule, most of the house members gave them a rather wide berth. While not allowed to harass her in front of others, it didn’t mean they wanted to be by Hermione either. 

“Morning, Anne,” a yawning girl with brunette hair sat across from them. “Ah, and this must be the mud- muggleborn, am I correct?”

“Yes, this is Hermione Granger,” Annalie chuckled at her friend. Hermione simply gulped her pumpkin juice, the sudden cold greeting shaking her more than she’d like to admit. “Hermione, meet Gina Wiltrow.”

“Hello,” Hermione said, attempting to appear at ease. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Got manners, this one,” Gina remarked with a raised eyebrow.

“Indeed,” Annalie answered, “Do you think I’d take a protege without them?”

“Of course not,” Gina blinked, trying to recover. “It’s just she’s a, you know-“

“Muggle born, yes, that fact has been established,” she stated with a wry, dry voice. “So, where is your little one?”

At that moment, a girl Hermione instantly recognized walked up next to Gina. Millicent Bulstrode, black hair tied in a high pony tail, muttered a bleary, sleepy good morning and plopped into the seat across from her. She reached out, obviously half asleep, and started to assemble her breakfast.

“Oi! Firstie,” Gina admonished, “What is the first thing you do in the morning?”

“Um,” Millicent blinked, confused and unsure. “Say good morning?”

“Very good,” Gina grinned. “And what do you do if you are in company you’ve never met before?”

“Wait to be introduced before eating,” she answered as a question.

“Just that,” she nodded once more. “Millie, this is Annalie Southington, and her apprentice is the mud- muggle born, Hermione Granger. Granger, Anne, this is Millicent Bulstrode, my little protege.”

Annalie greeted the girl with a nod and a smile. Hermione simply watched the scene in front of her, glad that she ended up with the blonde beside her. She would have been petrified in Millicent’s place. She gave a shy, tentative smile at her fellow first year. Shock and surprise went through her when Hermione saw Millicent return the gesture. _Maybe everything is looking up._

Of course, the moment only lasted five minutes until Jeremy and another fifth year waltzed into the Great Hall. Trailing behind were Pansy, Malfoy, and his two cronies. Hermione held back a scowl, settling for what she thought was a small sigh before turning back to her mostly finished plate of food. Of course, the other fifth year girl sat on Annalie’s other side, commanding Pansy to sit by Millicent. Hermione lost any progress she and the other Slytherin girl made within moments. Pansy’s whining and moaning about how early it was, and why they had to go to classes irritated Hermoine to no end. 

To her great dismay, the boys decided to sit on Pansy’s side. Draco Malfoy carried a loud ‘conversation’ with himself, Crabbe and Goyle able to only provide assenting grunts. Hermione resisted the urge to roll her eyes at these additions, instead taking in the rest of the hall. Students filled it to the brim now, very few seats left open. A great swooshing sound caught her attention as owls, hundreds of them, glided into the hall. Amazement and wondered began to leak through her mask as she watched them deliver their various parcels and letters.

“Keep your mask, Hermione,” Annalie whispered beside her. “This is an everyday occurrence at school, and owls deliver letters daily. I am allowed this amazed look to pass just once. Next time, I expect you to treat as ordinary as writing a letter or putting on shoes.”

Her mentor’s words brought Hermione crashing back to reality. “Of course, it won’t happen again,” Hermione gave a slight nod so as to not draw more attention to herself than necessary. 

“Good,” she nodded. “Now then, look at the head table,” which Hermione did. “The four heads of houses are Sprout for Hufflepuff, Herbology professor. She’s the stout, short one.” Hermione found the witch in question, and noticed laugh lines and good-natured disposition. “Flitwick for the Ravenclaws, he’s part goblin and is the charms professor,” once more, Hermione noted the short, energetic man. 

“The dragon, McGonagall of Gryffindor. She hates us, you know. Been beating her house in the Quidditch and House Cup for the past six years,” she grinned at the stern, Scottish woman. “Lastly, there’s Snape, the potions master. He’s the one with greasy, black hair. Brilliant wizard, but strict and biting. He’s our Head of House.”

Hermione nodded as she watched her Head of House. He stared intently at Potter as if he were a blight on the face of the Earth. Her brow furrowed in concentration. What reason could a professor have to dislike the Boy-Who-Lived before his first full day at school? Hermione didn’t know, and that made her even more curious. She found herself the recipient of a full blown stare of her own from the intimidating professor. He watched her as she scrutinized him in return with a tilt of her head. For a moment, he appeared intrigued, at least, not as disgusted as before.

“What are you staring at, mudblood?” a bored voice broke the moment.

A glance revealed a sneering Malfoy sitting to her side. She scowled at him and turned back to the front, pulling out the history book from the common room. A mental note fluttered by and, just as she was about to ask her fifth year companion, a hand jerked her to the other side.

“I asked you a question,” the boy hissed.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she sneered. “I didn’t realize I had to answer to rude.”

“No, but you have to answer to your superiors,” he glared in indignation.

“You’re right, and I do,” she replied, sticking her nose in the air. “Too bad you’re not one of them.”

“Why you little, mudlblood, know-it-all-“ Malfoy began only to be smacked up side the head. “Ow! What was that for?”

“For being a prat,” Jeremy breezily replied, taking a bite of his toast.

“You can’t do that,” the blonde boy protested.

“Oh really? Last I checked, I am in charge, not you,” he leered at the boy, “And you best know who to answer to yourself.” 

“But she’s dirty and worthless! No one is going to notice or hear me,” Malfoy began again only to be met with a glare.

“Tony told you to treat her like a Slytherin when around other people,” Jeremy narrowed his eyes into dangerous slits. “You will listen to him. If I hear anything again about this, you will have to deal with me. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes,” Malfoy muttered, defeated and annoyed at the prospect of being nice to her.

“Good,” he smiled once more, giving Hermione emotional whiplash. 

She almost pitied Malfoy, but, then again, he did bring it upon himself. She turned towards Annalie only to find her eyes twinkling with something. Hermione tilted her head to the side once more as the older girl winked at her and chuckled. She muttered something about ‘cute’ and ‘bickering already’ to Gina, leaving Hermione momentarily speechless. 

“Excuses me, Annalie,” she said after a moment of regrouping. “How does borrowing books from the common room work?”

“Ah that,” she grinned down at Hermione. “You take what you need when you need it. Of course, only Slytherins can touch the book. Snape has a magical log back in his office which keeps track of who has the it.”

Moments later, Professor Snape came through, handing each student their time tables for the year. She saw with interest how they were paired up the houses for lessons. She saw their first class of the year, double Potions with the Gryffindors, and groaned. The last thing she wanted was another lesson with the demented duo. With a sigh and goodbye to her mentor, Hermione heaved herself from the table and began the march down to the dungeon classroom. 

——————————————

“I have to admit,” Gina remarked as she watched the bushy haired girl walk away. “She’s got some spunk.”

“That she does,” Annalie smirked into her mug. “It’s rather adorable how they bicker, though.”

“I give them four years before they are snogging each other senseless,” Gina grinned. “Five at most.”

“That protege of mine will get himself into trouble,” Jeremy chuckled as he slid over, watching the two laughing girls. “Though, he does ask for it.”

“Got a mouth, he does,” Gina chuckled. “Fiesty, too. Should be a fun three years for you, Jere.” 

“Don’t remind me,” he winced. “At least he’s bright. Don’t know what I’d do if I ended up with one of his bodyguards.”

Together, the fifth years laughed as they stood up, making their way through the castle they called home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I totally intended this to be the first few days/weeks of school. Really, I did, but Hermione and Annalie and Draco and Jeremy all wanted to interact so… That’s kind of what happened. It happens too often to me. It’s why I can’t write short stories. I hope you guys enjoy it!


	5. First Day of School

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first day of school passes by a bit different than Hermione expected. In fact, she learns more about the wizarding world than she bargained for.

Cool, damp air seeped into Hermione as she leaned against the wall of the dungeon. Room still locked, she’d tried, Hermione propped open her potions book. She ignored the sounds of other students walking and talking. _Not like any of them are going to talk to me,_ she bitterly thought with a sigh. Instead, she flipped another page, the thick parchment a comfort in the frosty atmosphere.

The annoying tones of Weasley and Potter reached her ears, far too loud for her liking. At first, she decided to ignore them, not to pay them any mind or heed. However, their persistent comments and ever growing proximity caused her jaw to clench. Couldn’t they just quiet down? 

“Look, Harry, it’s the Slytherin muggle,” Ron sneered, obviously remembering the night before.

“Come on, Ron, we don’t want trouble the first day of class,” Harry tried to temper his friend.

“I know, but that doesn’t mean we can’t talk,” the read head continued. “I mean, look at her! A nest for owls on her head, beaver teeth, horrible personality -it’s a wonder anyone can stand to look at her.”

Hermione bristled with indignation. However, she reigned herself in. She would not lose points for her House before the first class even began. She heard several other Gryffindor first years laughing with Ron, insulting her and her House, her parents. _Really,_ she thought to herself.

“If I didn’t know any better, Weasley, it sounds like you have a crush on her,” a feminine voice sniggered.

Before she could stop herself, Hermione’s honey eyes snapped up to see who would defend her. Rolling her brown eyes, Millicent Bulstrode strode over to the red clad boys. A gaping Pansy stood behind the girl, mouth working, pug nose wrinkling even more, disbelief in every feature. 

“I do not,” Ron denied with venom.

“Really? You could have fooled me,” she continued, appearing bored as she examined her manicured fingers.

“What rot,” shouted the Gryffindor. “I bet you’re just sorry for the pathetic thing.”

Millicent rose a delicate eyebrow, retort on tongue, when the sharp staccatos of heavy foot falls rung throughout the hall. Looking back, a tall, imposing man stalked towards he children. Hermione shook herself, trying to get the scene before her out of her mind. A Slytherin defended _her._

“You will not fight nor squabble in the halls nor in my class,” a cold, impassive voice echoed around them. The dark eyes of Severus Snape inspected the children in front of him as he swept into the dungeon classroom. “Now then, I do not tolerate imbeciles nor tardiness. This will be your only warning.” 

Hermione followed first, the rest of the class following close behind. She took a seat up front, unloading her supplies for class. She found her Head of House held the great power of shutting up a class without even trying. No one sat next to her, which bothered her slightly. However, he began to speak.

As Professor Snape began his lesson, Hermione avidly taking notes, some of the Gryffindors began making a fuss. Hermione discovered just how truly surly her potions professor could be. Disdain and irritation marked Snape’s features as he quizzed Harry Potter, Hermione dutifully raising her hand until the last question.

“I don’t know sir,” the black haired boy began, “but it looks like she does.”

The Gryffindors sniggered. Some, commenting on how ‘that’d show him’ while others, especially Weasley, snorted at the bushy haired know-it-all. The snakes, however, had all received similar warnings about their Head of House: do not mess with him. They sat resolutely silent, several afraid, others fascinated. Hadn’t the Gryffindors been told about their professors?

“Silence,” Professor Snape sneered as he turned on the class. “Five points from Gryffindor for talking back to a teacher, and another ten for speaking out of turn.”

A deep, frigid silence fell over the class, the stunned first years staring at the black robed man. She held back the smug smile that threatened to appear on her face. A quick glance revealed her housemates various looks ranging from smug to amused. 

“Now then, since our little _celebrity_ does not know how to properly prepare for class,” Snape continued as he walked around the class before rounding on Hermione. “Miss Granger, I believe, can you enlighten us?”

“Sir, asphodel and wormwood are used as the key ingredients for the Draught of Living Death, A bezoar is the stone from a goat’s stomach that can heal almost any potion, and wolfsbane and monkshood are the same as aconite,” she recited with a gulp.

“Well then,” he slowly said, raising a dark eyebrow at the young girl. “It appears that some of you are not complete dunderheads. Ten points for Slytherin.”

Hermione gave the strict professor a weak smile, glad to finally gain someone’s approval. A raised eyebrow the only response he gave before turning on his heel to begin class. She knew, at the moment, how best to help her house. _I may not be good at sports, but I can do this._

For the rest of the day, she answered every question she could, gaining as many points as possible for her House. Lunch came and went, Hermione sitting alone at one end of the table. Mean remarks and rumors followed her throughout the halls, all the while bouncing off of her. She glowed with pride, having personally earned forty-five points total for Slytherin House on her first day of classes. Professors planned on awarding house points for the best homework as well. Hermione just knew she had to be the best.

Before dinner, Hermione decided to explore the library, viewing the tomes with renewed excitement. She knew that the book in her satchel must first be attended to, but she took one or two more for light reading. A wide smile broke out upon her face when she found _her_ spot right by a high window near the restricted section where few students dared to venture.

She practically skipped to the common room and got ready for dinner with Annalie, excited to tell her mentor about her first day at Hogwarts.

“I see my little serpent is on time for this meal,” Annalie grinned. “You learn quick, good. I would not want to punish you.”

Hermione nodded and began to walk. All the way to the Great Hall, the girls chatted amiably about their day. The younger girl hung on every word the elder spoke, obeying every command. Annalie decided she quite liked this girl, and, from her explanation and defense of her bookish habits were more than satisfactory.

They sat in the same seats as breakfast, where Annalie and Gina began an animated conversation as soon as they sat down. Hermione took out the history book and read it. Millicent rushed in, greeting everyone before sitting down and serving herself. Hermione noted, with great joy, that Pansy sat on the opposite side of the fifth years with Daphne Greengrass. Most likely gossiping over something pointless.

Then she decided to do something bold.

“Thank you for earlier,” Hermione whispered to the black haired girl across from her.

“Don’t mention it,” Millicent smiled. “While some people here are caught up on blood status, not all of us are that snobby. Anyways, we were told to treat you like a Slytherin in front of everyone else. If nothing else, we are loyal to each other.”

“I can see why,” Hermione snorted into her potatoes. “It’s not like anyone likes us.”

“No, especially after You-Know-Who,” Millicent sighed. “Not all of us were even involved.”

“I didn’t know that,” Hermione softly said.

“Well, even if we told everyone else, no one would believe us,” the girl across from her murmured. “It’s just what it’s like. No one wants to understand why we love our culture so much.”

Hermione regarded Millicent with a curious, intelligent expression. No encounter from any other House had yet to be pleasant. Not just potions, either. Herbology with the Ravenclaws proved to be quite hostile. None of them appeared to like Hermione answering every question and knowing more than them. The Hufflepuffs in the halls all glared or snickered at her, making lewd comments. Even the other professors regarded her with disdain. 

“It is exclusive,” she finally shrugged to the girl across from her. “No one likes to be left out, and, from what I’ve read, it is hard to get into high wizarding society.”

“Yeah, it is,” Millicent grinned after a moment, “But it’s a different kind of life. Everyone thinks that the women are trophy wives and socialites. They don’t realize how many families run their own businesses themselves. Nor do they realize that the women are essentially the cog that keeps all the major charities, fundraisers, and international politics afloat.”

“But what if she wants to be a professor or a potions mistress?” Hermione asked, tilting to her head to the side. 

“That’s the best part,” the other girl smirked. “With our connections we can do whatever we want. Most of the wizarding world doesn’t see that though. You know that my mom runs a successful interior design firm?”

Hermione blinked at this. She never truly thought about her future career. However, the socialites in the muggle society always appeared so posh and above anything like that. She knew that being a simple trophy wife would never satisfy her. No, she wanted to achieve greatness, be the best muggle-born out of Slytherin House. That did not mean sitting around on a chaise doing nothing all day. She stored the information away for later.

“By the way, you can call me Millie,” the girl across from her smiled shyly. “All my friends do.”

“But won’t you get into trouble?” Hermione asked before she could stop herself, eyes wide. “I mean, no one likes me, not really. I’m just the house mudblood. What about Parkinson?”

“Pansy?” she scoffed. “We’ve been at each other’s throats since we were three. She is too silly most of the time. At least you carry a goodconversation.”

A bright smile bloomed upon Hermione’s face, beaming at the girl across from her. She had finally done it. Hermione Granger made her first friend.

“Well, I’m Hermione,” she grinned.

The rest of dinner passed with the two girls talking about anything and everything. Millie asked Hermione all sorts of questions about the muggle world. Hermione, likewise, turned every question back. She wanted to learn as much as possible about her new world. A delighted laugh erupted from Millie after she learned Hermione’s reason for her know-it-all behavior.

“As Mum always said, when you got it, flaunt it,” Hermione grinned, devious and mischievous. “I don’t have looks or any sort of athletic ability, but I have a brain.”

“Is that what you tell yourself to go to sleep at night?” Malfoy drawled as he settled into the seat next to her, just like breakfast.

“Didn’t know you cared so much, Malfoy,” Hermione hummed, far too happy about Millie being her first friend ever to care. “I’m touched, truly.”

“I don’t care mu- Granger,” Malfoy grumbled, glancing at Jeremy next to him.

“Really? Because it sounded like you wanted to know about my well being,” Hermione smirked at the boy.

“It’s okay to have a crush on her, Draco,” Millie snickered.

“I don’t have a crush on her,” the boy all but yelled as he stood up.

“Like that was a convincing denial,” Gina sniggered as she watched the blonde boy turn pink.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Granger,” Malfoy spat at her raised eyebrow. “There is no way I would ever like someone like _you_.”

“Oh, what ever will I do without your approval,” Hermione sighed, dramatic and fake. “I suppose I’ll just continue on my campaign to beat you in every class.”

Millie smirked at Hermione, which she returned with a secretive smile of her own. Malfoy glared at her, tossing a menacing scowl for good measure, before turning back to his food and friends. The rest of dinner went without any further incident. The few elder Slytherins who heard the conversation began to watch the bushy haired first year with interest. Perhaps Annalie saw something none of them did before.

By the end of dinner, Millie and Hermione became excellent friends. They found they liked similar books and music. Their parents forced them to do silly lessons, like dancing and music, and they were only daughters. Hermione regretted having to part from her friend, but promised to study with her in the common room after her meeting with Annalie.

She left the table with the blonde fifth year, tossing a final smirk at Malfoy and a wave goodbye to Millie, Jeremy, and Gina. Her House appeared to be quieter than normal as she passed by. She happily noted that only three people hissed ‘mudblood’ at her, a great improvement since lunch. Up stairs, which Annalie explained both had vanishing and sinking steps, and through several corridors, Hermione found herself once more in the library. Annalie smiled at Madame Pince, Hermione following her example, and walked to a study room.

“First, sit up straight,” Annalie instructed as they shut the door behind them. “Just like that, back straight, suck in your stomach, shoulders back, excellent. This is how you are to sit when eating and attending classes and events. Slouching is bad for your posture as well as your back down the line.

“Now then,” the fifth year smiled at Hermione. “Tell me about your first day.”

Hermione smiled and complied with her wishes. She told her about how the Gryffindors, Weasley mostly, picked on her before potions, and Millicent coming to her rescue. She recited what she learned, while Annalie asked her related questions, testing her comprehension of the material covered. Every once in a while, she barked instructions, reminding her to sit up or suck in her stomach. She even instructed Hermione on what to do instead of fidgeting, proper behavior she called it.

“I see you are making remarkable progress in your classes,” Annalie remarked after their talk about Herbology. “And I am glad to hear that Millicent decided to become a friend.” Hermione beamed, the happiness shining from her honey eyes. “I must say, you two held an interesting conversation, especially about how pureblood women carry on after Hogwarts.”

“I didn’t know that socialites worked just as hard as everyone else,” Hermione nodded with a blush. “I mean, I never would have guessed. There are a few that are involved in politics and such, but most are rather shallow.”

“That’s the same way it is in the wizarding world as well,” her mentor nodded in understanding. “Now then, get out your journal, and I have a few tricks to teach you.”

Quickly complying, Hermione took out her black journal, absorbing the advice given. Within a quarter hour, she learned how to add pages where she wished, keeping her writing both thorough and organized. Hermione marveled at the beauty of magic. Never in her life did she imagine she could do something so amazing. 

“What are thinking?” Annalie murmured, inquisitive, sharp expression in her eyes. 

“Just that magic is a precious gift,” Hermione whispered, flipping through her journal reverently. “I feel privileged and honored to be able to do it all, let alone as well as I can.”

A glint of understanding flitted across Annalie’s face. Never before had she thought of magic thus. Since birth, it had been in her life, she’d never gone without it before. Not even the poorest of wizards or witches were without magic. Squibs, sure, but everyone else. She realized another motivator for her young apprentice, the reverence of her gifts, never taking it for granted.

“Hence why it is so important to learn how to use it, and how to properly interact with wizarding society,” she nodded after a few moment’s silence. “When you are done with the book, I want you to write a detailed summary, the conclusions you’ve drawn from it, and how you can use what you read in everyday life.”

Hermione nodded, trying her best to sit up properly. She received another book from Annalie then, a thin, old book. Soft, supple leather felt like butter under her fingertips as they glided along the surface. _Wizarding Traditions of Britain: A Primer for the Young Wizard, 1944 Edition_ the title read.

“Now this is very important,” Annalie said, watching the girl with an intense gaze. “I need this read by the end of the week as well, and be prepared to talk. I have heard that muggle marry late in their lives, and, unless they are higher up, there are rarely arranged marriages now a days.” 

“I am guessing wizarding society is different,” Hermione ventured, eyes alight with curiosity. 

“Very much so,” Annalie nodded. “By the time we leave Hogwarts, most of your classmates will be engaged, most will be married before twenty-one, having children by twenty-five. It seems barbaric and archaic, but it’s how we’ve kept our society. You are at a disadvantage as a muggle-born. For you to assimilate into Slytherin society, you will need to understand all of the nuances. This book will spell it out for you, and I will begin teaching it to you.”

“I don’t understand,” Hermione said, slow and cautious. “Won’t I always be at a disadvantage? As a muggle-born, I mean.”

“Not if you play your cards right,” Annalie smirked. “You have a unique advantage against all the other pureblood girls; being something different. Most of our social circle is ostracized from therest of wizarding society due to their interpretations of our beliefs. You need to present yourself as a proper young lady, dazzle the adults with your wit, and you will find people willing to overlook your blood.”

Hermione thought on this advice. She wanted to study and be of use to the magical world, become someone respected. She opened a fresh page and began to write. _Step One: achieve the highest marks possible and pass all my exams with O’s._ She nibbled on the tip of the quill for a moment before a stroke of inspiration struck her, quill furiously gliding across the page.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think it is fascinating to see the reverse discrimination against Slytherins. While the whole school in the series thought they were being just and careful, I doubt they realized how much damage and distance they themselves were putting between themselves and the Slytherins. You always hear of how evil they are, but what is it like to be labeled and condemned by sheer guilt by association? Everyone says Slytherins are judgmental, but aren’t they just as bad to judge a whole House based on the action of a few? And can you really blame those students and alumni who band together when the rest of the world is against them?


	6. Meet the Parents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the end of September, Hermione finds herself in the middle of the annual luncheon for Slytherin House. A new goal forms in her mind, as she uses Annalie’s lessons to her full advantage.

The first month of school passed by in a blur. Hermione and Millie were often seen together, occasionally joined by Daphne Greengrass, as they flitted between classes. Several times a day, Hermione would verbally spar with Malfoy or Pansy, winning more often than not. The other Slytherins had grown to grudgingly respect and accept her. Of course, the fact that she earned them quite a few points every school day did encourage this change.

Even the usual insults from the other Houses didn’t bother Hermione as much anymore. The fact that Weasley couldn’t leave her alone made quite a bit of fun for Millie. Often times, the girls would surmise why, and even tease the boy back. ‘Lady Lessons,’ as Hermione dubbed her evening sessions, progressed well, giving Hermione a good idea of what she wanted to accomplish in her new world.

One breakfast, around the end of September, a letter fluttered onto her plate. She took it curiously, watching her Housemates smile and buzzed with excitement. Elegant script and thick parchment announced the annual House Luncheon, a corresponding letter having been dispatched to their parents. Hermione’s heart sunk, a feeling of sadness numbing her for the first time since the early days of school.

“I am sure my father will attend, as well as my mother,” Draco Malfoy boasted next to her, nose haughtily high in the air. “They will be more than proud, being Slytherins themselves.”

Intelligent brown eyes studied Hermione’s withdrawn behavior for a moment, as Millicent chewed her lip. She glanced at Gina and Annalie, unsure of how to breach the subject. Hermione, all the while, simply went back to breakfast, stuffing her letter into her bag.

“I’m not sure Granger’s parents would survive the encounter though,” Malfoy continued, casting a superior smirk at the girl. “What, being muggles and all. I wouldn’t be surprised of Slytherin put some curse on the common room against that type of filth.”

“Draco,” Jeremy warned. “Hermione’s parent’s have every right to be here, just like your’s.”

“But, really, it’s not like they could if the wanted to,” Draco argued back, Hermione stilling. “This is the _wizarding_ world, and they’re just muggles.”

“Don’t worry, Malfoy,” Hermione finally responded, frosty and unfeeling. “My parent’s won’t be attending. No need to worry about how to be a socially functional part of society.”

Draco sputtered back at the girl beside him, several different thoughts trying to force their way through his mouth all at once. Annalie watched her apprentice, curious and intense. Millie flickered her gaze between her two classmates, hoping that nothing would happen. A feeling of dread filled Hermione, barely noticing the others around her.

“Now, Malfoy, be a dear and close your mouth before you swallow a fly,” she sneered before she left for class.

She went through class as normal, earning points for her House and never looking back. However, the feeling of dread and the familiar weight of impending disappointment settled upon her heart. She talked with Millie, half-heartedly mocked the Gryffindors, and even sneered at Pansy once or twice.

However, she couldn’t shake the feeling of hopelessness. Millie remained blissfully silent, trying to cheer her up in little ways. Hermione appreciated her friend’s efforts, often smiling and forgetting for short moments. The weight always returned upon her heart. Hermione missed the lively conversations during dinner, but found herself unwilling to be so carefree. 

During their lesson, Annalie confronted the young Slytherin about her change in behavior. Watching the girl recite and talk about her day as has become custom.

“Hermione,” the blonde fifth year interrupted Hermione’s story. “What is wrong?”

“What do you mean wrong?” Hermione blinked.

“I’ve been watching you all day, Hermione,” Annalie replied. “You aren’t acting normal, and it started when the invitations for the luncheon came. It’s no use to hide it from me, dear. Your mask is getting better every day, but I can still read you like a book.”

“Oh,” Hermione hung her head in shame, allowing herself a moment. She looked up with a sigh, emotions openly playing across her face. “My parent’s aren’t exactly the most nurturing type, is all. They tend to miss these types of meetings, since they are so busy.”

Annalie’s eyes lit with understanding. She knew that even the most neglected Slytherin will have their parents there. The luncheon served both as a ‘meet the parents’ as well as a legitimate social event. No one with school aged children dared to miss it, as it proved a good place to observe future matches. A large grin graced her face, as an scheme formed in her mind.

“Perhaps,” Annalie mused aloud, “that is for the best.” 

“What do you mean,” Hermione asked, curiosity winning over.

“Well,” Annalie continued, a secret grin forming in her mind. _Got her attention. Excellent._ “We will use this as your introduction into society. We will use it to our advantage. You will be parentless in this world, an orphan, who is just as smart and cunning as their own children. Someone will adopt your into their family, care for you as a daughter.

“From the sounds of it, you don’t see your family often,” the blonde girl continued. Hermione nodded, mesmerized by the scheme. “I suggest we use this opportunity to build your support network, get you a wizarding family if you will.”

“A family?” Hermione murmured. “Who would want me?”

Despite what others may think, Hermione’s parents were never truly around. They worked late nights at their clinic, and were influential in their field. Often times, they were out of the house for some fundraiser, conference, meeting, or gala, leaving Hermione with a nanny or sitter. Even vacations were distracted. Oh, they told her ‘I love you,’ and bought her whatever her heart desired, but she always felt detached and distant.

“I am sure someone will take you under their wings. In fact,” Annalie pursed her lips, a finger thoughtfully tapping her chin, “if we play our cards right, we can have you with a few interested in other things as well.”

Hermione didn’t need to be told what ‘other things’ Annalie had in mind. Instead, she tilted her head to the side, eyes shining with mischief and interest.

“So, here’s what we’ll do…”

——————————————

Soft, classical music filled the enlarged Slytherin common room on the first of October. Women in elegant dresses and men in dapper dress robes swirled around the room. Voices laughed and talked, creating a comfortable buzz around the usually subdued room. 

Hermione found herself to the left of Annalie in a beautiful dress. The emerald baby doll dress complimented her creamy skin, and, with her mentor’s help, she wore make-up for the first time. A soft, natural gloss covered her lips, and mascara darkened her lashes, as we watched the elegant, complex dance of the luncheon. 

“Hello Mum, Daddy,” Annalie smiled a beautiful couple. The man had her blonde locks while her mother sported the same slightly upturned nose and chocolate eyes. “This is my protege, Hermione Granger. She is the first muggle-born in the House in more than two hundred years. She is very bright, and we expect great things of her.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Southington, Mrs. Southington,” Hermione demurred with a polite curtsey.

“My, what lovely manners you have, Miss Granger,” the woman kindly smiled at her. “My daughter speaks very highly of your intellect. I must say, another clever Slytherin is always welcomed amongst us.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Hermione smiled at the friendly reception. 

She heard all of the slanderous whispers and caught a majority of the nasty stares since the event started. Annalie decided it best that she sat alone by the fire for a few minutes to get ‘acclimated’ to the event as a whole. She thought it was so Annalie could talk to her parents and smooth the introduction over. Either way, Hermione didn’t mind, it allowed her the time she needed to get her ‘Slytherin’ mask on.

She spoke with the Southingtons for a few minutes before Hermione felt a hand on her elbow. An excitable Millicent greeted her, with a stern pair of adults behind her. Hermione smiled at her friend before excusing herself from Annalie’s family. 

“Mummy, Pappa, this is my friend, Hermione Granger,” Millicent beamed.

“It is a pleasure to meet you both,” Hermione smiled, “Millie has told me all sorts of stories.”

“Our Millie tells us you are quite taken with transfiguration and potions,” Mr. Bulstrode said, kind sparkle in his eye.

Much like the Southingtons, Hermione received a warm welcome from Millie’s family. They spoke of Hogwarts, and the differences between the wizarding world and the muggle world. Within moments, she found herself once more introduced to some one and the other’s parents, and soon found herself acquainted with half of the room. 

It boggled Hermione’s mind how so many people were intrigued by her, especially due to her relative unpopularity. She realized there were just as many friendly people as critical. _We are like a pack of wolves,_ Hermione’s mind conjured Annalie’s explanation from her memories. _We look for the weakest link and either make them submit or prove themselves. Never act like prey, because then we go for the kill._

Walking and talking with the elder versions of her classmates brought that simile to life. She used her wit and charm, along with the newly acquired wizarding etiquette, to pass off as just another pup. Most were waiting for her to make a mistake, and Hermione thanked Merlin for all the time Annalie put into mock situations with the help of Gina, Millie, and a few others. 

After a particularly trying interview with the Parkinsons, Hermione found herself once more sitting on the chaise by the fire place. She sat and watched everyone mill about, recovering her composure as to not hit the next rude person to cross her path. Orange and yellow swirled together behind the grate, casting a warm glow upon Hermione. Her thoughts flickered in and out of her mind, reflecting upon the afternoon until a particularly annoying voice approached.

“I don’t know why you want to meet the mudblood, Mother,” Draco Malfoy huffed as he approached her on the chaise. 

“Language, son,” the tall, handsome man rebuked Draco. 

“Sorry, Father,” he sighed, casting her a mean glare as if it was _her_ fault he got reprimanded.

“We want to meet the young lady,” the slender blonde beauty tutted. “It is only polite, and Malfoys are always polite in proper company.”

“She’s hardly proper company, Mum,” Draco whined. 

“Really? Mrs. Nott was quite taken with her,” Mrs. Malfoy raised an eyebrow at her son. “Even Mrs. Parkinson seemed impressed. Not to mention, she is a Slytherin, my little dragon.”

“If we must,” he huffed, obviously unhappy with his parents.

Hermione, still facing the fire, heard the whole conversation. She made a conscious effort to sit straighter and appear more regal than she felt. As her father always said, fake it ’til you make it. So, she acted just like a perfectly bred pureblooded lady. At least, Hermione did everything Annalie always told her. She hoped it was enough.

“Oi! Granger,” Draco called her attention as he approached. 

“Yes, Malfoy?” She turned, raising an eyebrow at the boy before standing up with what she hoped passed for grace. Behind him, his parents stood in different states of disbelief and amusement. Obviously, Draco did not behave this way ordinarily.

“These are my parents, Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy,” he sneered at her, taking no pleasure in the formal introductions. “Mum, Dad, this is Hermione Granger, the resident Slytherin mu-“ he glanced at Jeremy, who’s hazel eyes watched the blonde intently, “-ggle-born.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Miss Granger,” the woman smiled at her graciously. “I apologize for my son’s lack of manners. He can be quite stubborn at times.”

“The pleasure is mine, Mrs. Malfoy,” Hermione smiled, turning on the charm. “And I do know what you mean.”

Narcissa regarded the girl, intrigued and impressed. Instead of being afraid or unsure, she acted properly, as if used to these types of situations. Draco did not intimidate the girl, nor did she really mind his presentation of her. If anything, the girl appeared amused at his blatant rudeness and general surly treatment.

“How are you finding Hogwarts, Miss Granger?” the imposing Mr. Malfoy asked, keen grey eyes watching her intently.

“I cannot describe how wonderful this experience is to me, sir,” Hermione answered, genuine warmth suffusing her voice. “I feel honored and privileged to wield magic. Learning how to use my gifts has been nothing short of amazing.”

“Is that so,” the elder Malfoy male mused, watching the girl’s eyes twinkle. “And what of your classes? What do you think of them?”

“I love them all, Mister Malfoy,” Hermione beamed. “Transfiguration and potions are perhaps my favorite subjects. I particularly enjoy a good puzzle and challenge. The only class that confuses me is muggle studies. I understand the value of teaching diversity, but why is there no corresponding wizarding studies class?”

“Why should there be?” Draco snorted before either adult processed the young girl’s words.

“To assimilate muggle-borns and half bloods into wizarding culture,” Hermione rolled her eyes with an implied _duh._

“And why would we want to do that?” the boy sneered.

“So we can learn about the world we are living in,” Hermione sighed, exasperated at her housemate’s pride. “Honestly, Malfoy, do you want magically handicapped people wandering our world? If I didn’t have Annalie to teach me all about it, I would be lost! Can you imagine how many people don’t even know the basics of our world?”

“That’s why they shouldn’t be allowed at all,” Draco glared at her.

“And let some of the greatest minds of all magic absent from our world,” Hermione retorted, hands on her hips as her eyes narrowed. “Honestly, Malfoy, did you know that most of the most innovative people, celebrated people, are those who didn’t know magic from a tulip until the they received their Hogwarts letter? I’ve read all about them in the library and in History of Magic. They look at magic differently, and are able to think outside the box.”

“Is that what you’re here to do, Granger? Change the magical world,” the blonde boy haughtily threw back, arms crossed in front of his chest.

“That is for me to know, and for you to discover along the way, Malfoy,” Hermione answered, a slow, devious grin forming on her mouth. Her eyes twinkled with mischief and determination, watching the boy’s grey eyes widen and a visible gulp slide down his throat. “Perhaps, I enjoy causing a bit of chaos in our world.”

Malfoy gaped at her for a moment, pink tinting his normally pale cheeks. Hermione smirked at the boy, and turned her winningest smile unto his parents. She noticed the amusement flickering in the woman’s eyes, a small, soft smile pulling at her lips. The woman winked at Hermione, and the girl felt a returning smile tug at her own mouth. 

The severe man next to her regarded Hermione with interest. Smart, cunning, ambitious, quick-witted and able to keep his son on his toes. He valued those qualities greatly. The business man in him recognized the diamond in the rough, and ran a list of contacts to owl about her. He regarded the two children before him as his wife talked to them about something inconsequential, only to be interrupted by one of the older students.

“If I may, Mr. Malfoy, Mrs. Malfoy,” Jeremy asked, respectfully dipping his head towards them, “I would like to borrow young Miss Granger. My parents would like to make her acquaintance.”

“Of course, Jeremy dear,” Narcissa smiled at the teen. “Do say hello for us. Also, please tell your mother she is invited for tea afterwards at the manor.”

“I will, ma’am,” he smiled brightly. “Thank you.”

“Thank you for your time, Mr. Malfoy, Mrs. Malfoy,” Hermione demurred with a soft smile.

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Granger,” the blonde woman fondly replied.

“Indeed, we shall see you again, I hope, Miss Granger,” her husband added with a surprising gentleness.

“I look forward to it,” Hermione beamed. She turned, and, before following Jeremy said, “See you later, Malfoy,” and flipped her hair behind her back.

The elder Malfoys watched the girl meet yet another set of Slytherin parents. They surreptitiously observed their son stare at the girl, lips pursed and cheeks still flushed. While they couldn’t tell if it was from anger or something else, the girl clearly affected their son a great deal. Lucius met his wife’s eyes, and saw the familiar twinkling of a scheme. He smirked in return, knowing they had much to talk of later.

Across the room, Hermione didn’t know what the adults were thinking, much less Malfoy. Instead, the attention of Jeremy’s parents occupied her mind. In fact, the whole luncheon went better than she anticipated. She expected to be treated like a social pariah, not the most interesting socialite in the room. It almost made the ache of her own parent’s absence bearable. 

As the event dwindled to an end, Hermione sat in her chaise by the fire with an envious pang in her heart. Forlorn eyes drifted from family to family, watching parents and their children interact. Some relationships were loving, others distant, yet they were all together. She remained the only student alone, no family to come and say good-bye or behave. Familiar emotions tried to choke her as she trained her honey eyes upon the crackling flames.

“Excuse me, Miss Granger,” a familiar tinkling voice called her out of her thoughts. She turned to find Narcissa Malfoy smiling kindly at her.

“Ah, excuse me, Mrs. Malfoy,” Hermione responded, her mask firmly in place. “How may I help you, ma’am?”

“Oh, nothing dear,” she sat next to the brunette, voice friendly and inviting. “I simply am wondering where your parents are.”

Hermione worked hard to keep the surprise and suspicion from her face, instead watching the woman with a curious, calculated gaze. She didn’t know why this woman wanted to know. From everything she knew, especially from their son, Narcissa Malfoy shouldn’t want anything to do with her.

“They were busy this weekend,” Hermione answered, a curious tilt to her head. “They rarely attend school functions due to their schedule.”

“Well, that is a shame,” Mrs. Malfoy nodded, watching the girl carefully. She could see the hurt and bitterness in her honey eyes, quickly putting together a plan. “I apologize, Miss Granger, but it is time for me to leave.” 

“It’s Hermione, ma’am,” the girl blurted out, an embarrassed flush colored her cheeks. “I mean, please call me Hermione. Miss Granger sounds rather stuffy and formal.”

“So it is,” the woman laughed once more as she stood. She noticed her husband and son standing off to the side as they watched the women. “I am sure we shall see you soon, Hermione.”

“Y-yes,” Hermione stuttered, taken aback by her kindness. “See you soon, Mrs. Malfoy.”

Lucius said his goodbyes to Hermione, earning a shy smile from the brunette before turning to his son. Both parents gave him an affectionate hug, though Narcissa earned an embarrassed scowl when she pecked him on the cheek. As they left, Lucius noticed the curious look his son gave the muggle-born, as family after family went to say goodbye to the girl. She smiled as people came to her, some polite others genuine, bidding them farewell. If not told, there would be no way to know her heritage. 

Hermione watched the Malfoys leave as students were led to her by their parents, one after another. They each gave her their well wishes and goodbyes, as if it were expected of them. She made a mental note to ask Annalie about this later, though Hermione suspected she knew why. They emulated the Malfoys, giving her a parting word before departing. All the while, she could feel someone staring at her.

Annalie and her parents came up to Hermione last, each smiling broadly at the girl. Genuine warmth and affection filled her once more, as she regarding the Southingtons. They spoke animatedly, saying how much they regretted leaving, but would love to meet her once again. Hermione smiled broadly, forgetting her own thoughts for a while.

“And dear, you must visit for the holidays,” Mrs. Southington beamed. “I know that the Bulstrodes mentioned having you over as well, but why not split the time? We run in the same circles, so I’m sure you’ll see each other through.”

“I would love to visit,” Hermione blinked, unsure of how to take such a generous invitation. “Of course, I don’t want to be a burden.”

“Not at all dear,” Mr. Southington waved, dismissing her worries. “It will be our pleasure.”

“In that case, yes,” Hermione beamed. “I just need to talk to my parents and see if they need anything.”

Annalie caught the dark look upon her apprentice’s face. Her mind worked through all the knew of the girl, unsurprised at the feeling of indignation and protectiveness that flooded her. During the past month, the muggle-born grew on Annalie, and she came to care for the young girl. The thought that Hermione’s parents were doing something wrong with her worried her.

“Of course,” Mrs. Southington smiled at the young Slytherin. “Be sure to send us their answer and the dates when you can, dear.”

“Thank you very much, ma’am,” Hermione said with a soft smile on her lips. “I will do just that.” 

“I look forward to seeing you during the Holidays, Hermione,” she beamed at Hermione. 

With a final goodbye, the Southingtons left the common room, leaving Hermione and Annalie by themselves. Hermione watched the flames for a time, feeling her mentor’s weight shift upon the couch. Her mind whirled a mile a minute, taking in the whole luncheon for the first time. It went much better than expected, Hermione mused, a secret, successful smile gracing her lips. She turned to find Annalie watching her with an thoughtful gaze before sharing her grin.

“We’ll talk about this later, little snake,” Annalie affectionately ruffled Hermione’s frizzy hair. “Along with a few other things. For now, just get some rest. I know how that huge head of your’s works.” 

“Thank you, Annalie,” she whispered, giving the girl a hug. 

“Whatever for?” Annalie blinked, unused to the affection. Slowly, she returned the hug as she realized that Hermione needed it for some reason. 

“Just for being here and helping me,” Hermione answered quietly as she pulled away.

“Any time, little snake,” she smiled as she stood and left.

Hermione gazed into the fire once more, dread filling her. She knew when Professor Snape called her that the next few minutes would be anything but enjoyable. Standing on shaky legs, she steeled herself for what was to come. 

Unbeknownst to her, Draco Malfoy watched her like a hawk since his parents left. They were interested in her, and he wanted to know why, at least he told himself so. When Snape came to retrieve her, he followed at a distance, following them into Snape’s domain. Draco knew his godfather kept the door cracked open so he could hear, though the ‘why’ answered itself within moments.

“Mr. Granger, Mrs. Granger,” Snape’s cold voice greeted from his office.

“My, what an uncivilized, messy form of travel,” a sharp soprano sneered. “I suppose it is rather convenient, though you’d think you would all figure out how to keep it clean with your _magic_.”

The boy blinked at the her tone of voice, derisive and disrespectful. He watched from the crack as Hermione hid her mortification with a detached, bored look. The woman, her mother, looked at her critically, not bothering to go up to her daughter and hug her. Next to her, a sharply dressed man patted the girl on the head as if she were a pet.

“Now then, Lizzy, no need to be so harsh,” Her husband’s warm baritone filled the room. “I’m sure they will figure it out one day.”

A sniff of indignation came from Snape, who tried not to strangle the adults in the room with him. Draco agreed whole-heartedly with the sentiment. He briefly wondered if that’s how Hermione saw him, a prideful, arrogant person judging others without thinking. He brushed off that thought as the girl in question started to talk.

“Mum, Dad, welcome to Hogwarts,” she said, politely inclining her head. “As I have written, I live in the Dungeons since I joined Slytherin House.”

“No wonder it is so dank,” the woman sniffed, disdainfully taking in the simple office. “You would think for a magical school it would be more… grand.”

“Unfortunately, Mrs. Granger,” Snape bit out, “We are not allowed to give you a tour of the castle at this time, as we do not have ample time before the next meal.”

“No matter,” the woman sneered. “I wouldn’t want to see it anyways. Hermione, my duckling, why don’t you tell me how school is going?”

“Well, Mother,” Hermione answered in a droll voice. “I am receiving high marks in all my classes, just like you told me to.”

“Wonderful, my little duckling,” the woman smiled at Hermione. “Now then, what have I told you about your hair?”

“To keep it neat,” Hermione sighed, twirling a frizzy lock in her finger. “It is quite difficult though. I haven’t found anything that works yet.”

“Can you not just look into one of your magic books,” the woman asked with saccharine sweetness Draco mistrusted.

“I have not yet looked, Mother,” Hermione gulped. “I have been busy with my studies and meeting-“

“Ah yes, we haven’t gotten to that part yet, have we,” Mrs. Granger continued. “Have you made any friends?”

“If you read my letters,” Hermione began, obviously irritated now. “You would know that Millie is my friend, and that Annalie is helping me adjust to Hogwarts.” 

“Yes, how kind of them,” the woman murmured at the girl.

“How are they treating you here,” Mr. Granger asked, trying to help his daughter. 

“As well as to be expected, Daddy,” she replied, relief in her voice. “I am different, so they don’t take to me quickly, but I am making progress.”

“Very good,” the man beamed down at her.

“Progress? Really Hermione?” Her mother sighed. “You think one friend is enough? How will you ever make it in this world without useful connections?”

“I much rather have one real friend than a hundred backstabbing connections,” Hermione huffed, glaring at the brunette woman next to her.

“Now, is that what I have taught you over the years?” the woman sneered at the girl. “You do not talk to me that way, my little duckling.”

“I-I didn’t mean it like that,” Hermione stuttered, eyes widening. “I just am frustrated is all, I’m sorry.”

“That doesn’t make up for the fact that you lost your temper, does it?” Her mother continued. “The fact that you know it was wrong makes it worse, Hermione.”

Draco tried to back away from this conversation, unable to do anything. He watched as the woman berated her, calling out every fault he and others had teased about for the past month. However, instead of being funny or relieving, it disgusted him. That a parent would act like that towards their child boggled his mind. He saw Snape turn his head away, jaw working to keep himself silent. The man, her father, did nothing to help, only watched his daughter sadly. 

If anything, her father’s inactivity enraged Draco even more. Wasn’t a father supposed to protecthis children? Why didn’t he stop his wife? A rush of protectiveness and indignation swept through him as he watched Hermione’s face transform from horrified to stony. Without even thinking, he stood up and composed himself before bursting into the office.

“There you are, Granger,” he announced, trying to look convincing as he grabbed her wrist. “We have that potions essay due on Monday, and I intend to get an O on it.”

Shock and surprise painted her features as she dumbly allowed Draco to pull her out of her seat and away from her parents. Why was he here? They weren’t even potions partners, not to mention they didn’t have a essay due on Monday; the schedule said practical on that day. The dots connected, and she blanched at the most likely reason for his outburst.

“Professor, if you’ll excuse us,” he haughtily sneered at the two strange adults as he left with their daughter in tow. 

Within ten minutes, they stood in front of the Slytherin entrance. Hermione’s downcast eyes bothered Draco. For the past month he knew her, she never lowered her head to anyone, not even professors. She always had snappy retorts that put whoever back in their place. The lack of her typical attitude disturbed the boy more than he liked to admit. He noticed his hand still grasping her wrist, and released it, feeling awkward.

“How much did you hear?” she asked, her voice quivering with emotion.

“All of it,” he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck with embarrassment at being caught eavesdropping.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know,” she whispered after a moment of tense silence. 

“Slytherins protect their own,” he shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant. “I couldn’t let a pair of muggles insult one of us.”

Hermione glanced up and noticed the slight pink on his cheeks. He didn’t look at her, instead his grey eyes were focused on something above her head to the left. She watched his hands clench and unclench at his sides, and had the urge to giggle at the absurdity. She never imagined a situation where Draco Malfoy, one of the most arrogant and pig-headed people she knew, would come to her rescue.

“Still, thank you Draco,” she smiled at him shyly before entering the common room, rubbing at her stinging eyes. She knew his eyes snapped to her as she walked through. She thew an amused glance at him. “Are you coming or not?”

“Whatever, Hermione,” He rolled his eyes, following the brunette to their haven of silver and green.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I am taking all sorts of liberties with this, but I love the idea of a high society luncheon/meet and greet for the House. Slytherin would have the inside ability to do what they want. Also, it’s somewhat plot important. In addition, I wanted to put some personal conflicts in here for Hermione.


	7. Troll in the Dungeon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the unexpected truce between Draco and Hermione, things begin to settle back down. That is, until a certain professor unleashes a troll into the dungeon.

Bright, autumn hues colored the plentiful grounds surrounding the manor. Delicate clinks of priceless china and a comfortable hum of conversation filled the solarium, a very satisfied Narcissa Malfoy sitting in the middle of the ladies tea. Around her sat the other Slytherin mothers, all talking and laughing together. 

At present, the hostess engaged in conversation with other first year mothers. Lilac Parkinson, Patricia Bulstrode, Astrid Greengrass, and Monica Nott laughed as they exchanged anecdotes from letters. They compared notes, and, Narcissa noticed, how often Miss Granger came up in conversation.

“Why Teddy owled me the other day how she easily outstripped everyone their subjects,” Monica chuckled, eyes alight. “Sent a stinging hex at one of the Gryffindors, another Weasley I think, for calling her a muggle during charms.”

“She seems quite crafty,” Patricia agreed. “My Millie is just best friends with her. Her letters are always full of their little adventures. I have quite the mind to invite her to stay during the winter holiday.”

“I must say that my Pansy doesn’t like the girl one bit,” Lilac sniffed. “Says she’s a disagreeable, unobliging, impertinent child. Barely more than a savage.”

“Come now, Lilac,” Monica kindly smiled, “You know that Pansy enjoys being the center of attention. Since Miss Granger arrived, her friends are all interested in the newest intrigue. I daresay they will, in time, become best of friends.”

“I confess,” Astrid mused, twirling a lock of blonde hair without a thought, “I feel for the child. No one knows about her parents. Apparently they are muggle teeth healers, but they didn’t even have the decency to make an appearance at their daughter’s new school for the luncheon.”

“From what Millie says, they never go to school functions,” Patricia informed the small circle. “She says that Hermione rarely talks about them, and when they do, it is almost never good.”

The ladies murmured opinions, debating what could possibly be going on. They enjoyed speculating on the subject. Narcissa’s mind wandered from the conversation to a curious pair of letters. October the second yielded two letters of different style with similar content. One came from her son, and the other from her dear friend. Their accounts did not add up to anything pleasant. The beautiful blonde woman could guess just what was wrong in Hermione’s household.

“I hear Natalie’s daugther, Annalie, has taken Hermione as her protege,” Patricia’s voice brought Narcissa out of her thoughts. “I can think of no better young lady to teach her.”

“Her manners surprised me,” Lilac said after a quiet moment. “If Pansy were not so opposed to the girl, I would never have guessed her to be a muggle-born.”

“I agree, Lilac,” Monica nodded. “Proper, respectful, but quite charming. Merlin knows Kenneth found her enchanting. I don’t think he would oppose if Teddy began to fancy her.”

“That is preposterous,” Lilac all but yelled. “A mudblood dirtying the fine name of Nott? What is wrong with you?”

“Lilac, dear, you forget. The times are changing. Lucius and I have conversed extensively on this topic,” Narcissa cooly interrupted before the black haired witch could shriek once more. “We want our family to thrive and grow. If introducing a highly talented, well bred, powerful muggle-born witch is the best option, we will not oppose it. Imagine, Li, the reactions of our enemies, our detractors.”

An expectant hush fell upon the small group. Murmurs and laughter of the other mothers floated across the room, yet unable to penetrate the atmosphere. Narcissa’s sky blue eyes met with each woman, gauging how to breach the next subject. The past few weeks, Lucius and she reached the same conclusion. They gathered their friends and colleagues today to persuade themof this course of action.

“By accepting this child into our ranks,” the blonde woman steepled her fingers, “We give our social circle, our culture, the moral high ground. Dumbledore and his associates depend upon this, it is the pivotal point of their platform, one that we are not known to accept. They do not understand our reasons, not with how we went about it before. With this girl, we have the opportunity to promote traditional wizarding culture as something to strive for, to preserve.”

Contemplative silence cocooned the women once more, as they watched their queen bee. They knew that if the Malfoys, one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, amongst the wizarding elite of the world, were to take this stand, they did so with due diligence. Narcissa watched the women as they pondered her proposition, knowing that, by the end of the week, all of wizarding high society would know their stand on the issue. Merlin knows these women love to gossip. She just hoped it would be enough.

After everyone left, the elder Malfoys found themselves relaxing in one of their lounges. Narcissa reflected on the afternoon. They the ladies continued to talk, she noticed more than one contemplative thought. Icy eyes watched her as she turned another page in her book.

“How do you think they took it?” Lucius’ baritone broke the silence.

“Better than I thought, to be honest,” she answered with a slight smile. “You know what they say, snakes that scheme together, stay together.”

“Indeed,” he smirked. “I do believe that Miss Southington had quite the idea.”

“She did,” his wife agreed, a matching grin on her face. “I confess to being worried for Hermione, though. From Severus’ letter, it sounds like quite the bad situation.”

“Hmm,” he mused, a dark expression spreading across his face. “He says she is quite talented in all areas of school, easily surpassing her peers. If Miss Granger truly is that powerful, she would be an asset to us.”

“It doesn’t hurt that Draco appears to be taken with her,” Narcissa chuckled.

“All the better for us. As a Malfoy, he should be setting social example,” Lucius drawled, puffing out his chest. “It will be up to us to guide him, of course.”

“Naturally, darling,” the blonde woman replied, amusement flickering in her eyes.

——————————————

Days and weeks fell into familiar patterns as October wore on. Days grew shorter, leaves changed into resplendent hues, and crisp autumn breezes blew across the grounds. Hermione found the routine of classes, studying, and walking outside a welcome blur. Slytherins no longer openly hated her, though she still encountered the odd hex -she suspected people liked to keep her on her toes.

To Hermione’s surprise, the civility that Draco displayed didn’t diminish over time. While they still argued like cats and dogs, she found that he no longer ridiculed her heritage. Instead, all taunts and insults were directed at her personality. A favorite of his, Hermione found, was calling her the know-it-all bookworm bent on making them all look bad. She smirked quite happily every single time he brought it up. 

Some nights, the young Slytherin found herself weeping in Melinda’s alcove. Other times, she sat proudly in her common room or library, braving all the insults and sneers. Annalie never pushed her into divulging what happened after the luncheon. Hermione thanked the stars, embarrassed enough that Draco and Professor Snape knew.

In fact, the surly potions master appeared more inclined towards her than before. While still critical, he at least appeared pleased with her progress. That is, if you can call “that appears less horrible than most” and “perhaps you could become tolerable at potions’ praise. Hermione took what she could from the dark professor.

The morning of Halloween, parcels littered the Slytherin table. Even Hermione’s parents sent her a package (all sugar free, of course). A small smile broke out onto her face, excited for the feast that evening. She hummed, happily making her way through class. To her great enjoyment, they shared none with Gryffindor. 

As they finished Transfiguration with the Hufflepuffs, green robes began to shuffle to the dungeons to drop off their bags before the feast. Hermione and Millie led the group, conversing about the lesson. Draco and Nott were flanked by Crabbe and Goyle, busy sneering at every other house that walked by, while Daphne and Pansy brought up the rear.

“Honestly, though,” Hermione sighed, exasperated once more. “How can they not get it? Professor McGonagall wasn’t trying to teach us how to become animagi!”

“You overestimate the intelligence of the badgers, Hermione,” Millie sniggered as she remembered the looks on their faces. “Though, I don’t know how we’re supposed to learn anything at this rate.”

“At least no one blew themselves up today,” Hermioe shrugged. 

“Nah, that honor belongs to Finnegan,” Millie chuckled, flipping her black hair behind them.

“Though, who blew up the potions lab this time?” Hermione asked, her nose scrunching at the ripe scent in the corridor.

“I don’t know, but you would think that Professor Snape would do something about it by now,” her friend shrugged.

The group continued down the layers into the dungeon, complaining about the noise. As they turned a corner that lead their common room, Hermione stopped dead in her tracks. Before her stood a fully grown mountain troll. Ragged leather crudely sewn together adored it’s grotesquely large body. Long limbs swung back and forth, wiry muscle bunching beneath it’s green skin. A wooden cudgel rested upon it’s left shoulder. 

“Merlin, Hermione what are you stopping for?” Draco squeaked out as he ran into Hermione’s back.

“Shut it, Draco,” she hissed, clapping a hand over his mouth.

“Oh no,” Pansy breathed, turning pale as she turned the corner. 

“What are we going to do?” Daphne began to panic at the sight. “There is no way to get to our common room!”

Hermione spread her arms out, slowly backing around the corner they just turned. As she faced her housemates, various looks of alarm and panic greeted her. What could they do? She thought as quickly as her young brain would go until a thought came to her.

“Crabbe, Goyle, keep watch,” Hermione whispered to the two boys. 

They nodded and complied, sneaking up to the edge of the wall. They took turns looking down at the shuffling troll. Each step echoed through the dungeon around them. For a few moments, the first years simply stayed quiet, hoping against hope that the massive beast wouldn’t notice them. It appeared Merlin listened, as each dull thud sounded further away than the last.

“Something tells me that not going to our common room isn’t an option right now,” Hermione muttered to herself. 

“Then what should we do?” Pansy hissed at the girl, face just as white as the rest of them.

“Can we go for help?” Millie asked, looking around the group.

“Professor Quirrell decided to take the fifth years outside today,” Hermione replied, shaking her head.

“Then are we just going to die?” Draco tried to sneer, unable to cover his obvious unease.

“No, Draco,” Hermione and Millie answered together.

“What if we lead it somewhere?” Theodore piped up from the back.

“Yeah, but where?” Draco asked. 

“And how?” Millie added as Daphne whimpered.

“What if we trapped it in the bathroom or an empty classroom?” Hermione supplied, thoughts flashing through her mind.

“That could work,” Theodore nodded and pursed his lips. “But how?”

“I don’t care,” Pansy whined, barely controlling the volume of her voice.

“You need to be quiet, Pans,” Draco shushed, hoping to calm his friend. 

“I want to get out of here,” the girl shrieked at the top of her lungs, the sound reverberating throughout the dank dungeons.

Everything went still and silent. Hermione and Draco gaped at the pug-nosed girl in front of them, eyes wide. Theodore gulped and started to back away. Crabbe and Goyle backed away from the corner of the wall, almost running over Millie in the process.

“It’s coming now,” Crabbe mumbled, fear written on his face.

“Run!” Draco shouted.

Chaos erupted in the hall. Draco ran into Crabbe, trying to go opposite directions while Daphne scurried backwards, screeching at the top of her lungs. Millie and Theodore ran to the left as Hermione gasped in horror. Goyle trampled Pansy in his attempt to follow Daphne and Crabbe, who now ran the opposite direction.

Within seconds, the troll lumbered around the corner and let out a fearsome bellow, freezing Draco and Pansy within it’ s reaches. Hermione raised her wand and tried to think of how to defeat a troll. Nothing came to mind, blank at the most inopportune time.

“Flipendo!” her soprano called out, hitting the creature square in it’s chest. “Get out of there!”

Awakened from whatever trance the pair were in, both Slytherins made their way back to Hermione. She fired spell after spell, trying to keep the creature at bay. A mere few feet away, Pansy tripped face first as the troll advanced further down the corridor. 

“Pansy,” Hermione yelled, diving for the girl while shooting another spell, the full body bind, praying it would at least do something. 

A hand roughly grabbed another arm, dragging her towards the wall and safety. Flares of spells began to strike the troll from all angles. Hermione took the time to take stock of her housemate. Nothing seemed out of place, and no major injuries appeared in her cursory, and admittedly amateur, investigation. 

“Are you alright, Pansy?” Hermione breathed as she watched the troll try to decide where to attack.

“Y-Yeah, th-thanks,” the black haired girl blushed over the loud thud of the wooden club hitting stone.

The girls ducked out of the way, running along the wall until they were back with Draco and Crabbe. Both boys were trying to hold off the creature, while Theodore and Millie worked from the side, thoroughly confusing the beast. Hermione watched for a moment, mystified. She had never come so close to something so dangerous, yet it appeared to be easy to herd. What if…

“You guys, we need to herd it to the loo!” Hermione shouted above the noise.

“What do you mean ‘herd it,’ Granger,” Theodore yelped as he tried to weave around falling rock.

“Just that,” she nodded at the boy. “If we can trap it in an enclosed space and then keep it there until someone can get a Professor, then we should be able to trap it there!”

“So, what do we do, genius,” Draco growled as he let another _flipendo_ loose. 

“Follow my lead,” Hermione nodded.

It took them a good half hour of firing random spells to maneuver the troll into the correct corridor. All the while, no one appeared. Not a single professor or student, not even a ghost! If she could stop to think, she would have been enraged at the lack of patrolling or supervision. Unfortunately, a troll took all her immediate thoughts.

“What could be taking them so long?” Millie yelled over their continuous spells as they advanced down the corridor. “We’re not even trying to be quiet!”

“I don’t know,” Pansy panted, sweat visibly collecting around her temple and upper lip.

“The Halloween Feast,” Hermione and Draco exclaimed at once. 

Honey eyes met silver and they widened for a fraction of a second before they snapped their heads away. Hermione nibbled the bottom of her lip, casting a glance at the blonde boy beside her. _Not now,_ she thought to herself, _I can’t be distracted with this thing in front of us!_

“Nott, you’re the fastest of us, right?” Hermione called over to the brunette boy. He nodded before she continued, “Run and get someone, anyone!”

Just as he made to run off, two fifth years rounded the corner yelling at the gaggle of first years. Without a thought, their voices mingled with one another, echoing around the dungeon.

“Where the bloody hell have you been?” Jeremy growled.

“How is there a troll here?” Annalie screeched.

“Get away from that thing right now,” the boy brandished his own wand, sending a spark of red at it.

“Now!” the girl roared at the stunned gaggle.

The first years jumped to obey her orders, all too tired and scared to object. Hermione quickly explained what happened and what they were doing. In that time, Jeremy was able to stun the troll, sending a new hex every few minutes. At the end of their story, Annalie slowly shook her head, unbelieving of the first years before her.

“And you thought that would be the best idea?” She growled.

“I’m sorry, but I had to do something,” Hermione murmured, shuffling her feet. “Otherwise, Pansy and Draco would have gotten hurt or died.”

“Just, go up to the Great Hall and sit for the feast,” Annalie muttered after minutes of silence. All the first years nodded, subdued by their adventure and unwilling to upset the fifth years anymore. “And Hermione,” the bushy haired brunette turned to face the blonde with frightful eyes, “We’ll talk about this later.”

She nodded and slumped forward, not at all liking the tone. Hermione couldn’t bare disappointing someone who had done so much for her. While a sense of pride and accomplishment washed over the first year, the feeling of impending doom hung over their heads. Pansy nudged Hermione’s shoulder, trying to cheer her up, and offered a small, shy smile.

“For what it’s worth, I thought you were brilliant out there,” the girl murmured.

“It was nothing,” Hermione shrugged, a flush of embarrassment and pride washing across her face. “Besides, we all helped. I didn’t do it alone.”

As they marched up the steps, Hermione felt someone else nudge her. She turned to find Draco, who watched her with a calculated gaze. She raised an eyebrow, unsure of how to take his inspection. Shoulders shrugged in answer, turning to face forward once more. Another moment went by before Hermione turned forward once more.

Daphne and Goyle met them at the top of the steps, both worried. After relaying the story, the group made their way to the entrance hall. The little pack of Slytherin first years formed as they walked. Hermione and Draco, quiet and somber, lead the group, while Crabbe and Goyle followed a few steps behind on either side. Daphne and Pansy followed with Millie and Theodore taking the rear, eyes darting around as if keeping watch.

“Do you reckon they’ll make a big deal of it?” Draco mused as they entered the Great Hall. 

“I hope not,” Hermione sighed. “It’s not like any of us got hurt, and what’s a few walls to repair with magic?”

“I don’t know, you guys,” Pansy answered as she settled across from Hermione. 

For the first time, Hermione allowed her eyes to wander the hall. Huge jack-o-lanterns floated high above the tables, flickering and casting eerie shadows about the room. Bats swooped around the rafters, somethings fluttering through student’s hair. Shrieks of delight filled the air as students played pranks on each other. 

In contrast, the eight Slytherin first years sat around the table still in shock. To her left sat Draco, as always, with Theodore Nott across from him. To his left sat Crabbe, with Goyle next to Draco, both of whom were looking at their plates eagerly, eyes glancing between the head table and themselves. Across from Hermione sat Pansy, who shot her another shy smile. The brunette answered with one of her own, glancing at Millie to her right. Daphne nibbled her lower lip, gazing across the table at Millie before they all started to laugh.

“Have they gone barmy?” Theodore muttered, watching the four girls laugh hysterically.

“I think all girls are stark raving mad,” Draco replied, raising a blonde eyebrow.

“At least they won’t be at each other’s neck anymore,” Theodore shrugged to which Draco chuckled.

Soon, the worries and events the past hour or so washed away as more students filtered into the Great Hall. Hermione watched Weasley and Potter as they sat down at their table. Their heads swiveled, eyes trying to catch sight of something or someone. Not only was she drawn to them, but Draco noticed their strange behavior as well.

“What do you reckon they are looking for?” the blonde boy asked as he leaned towards Hermione.

“I couldn’t tell you,” Hermione responded, quizzical expression upon her face.

Before either could conjecture what caused the odd behavior of the Gryffindors, Professor Dumbledore began the feast. Soon, all thoughts of other people fled their minds. Instead, laughter and sweets took their place. Hermione already promised herself she would brush at least twice before going to bed that night, rationalizing her sugar intake. 

Sometime during the meal, Jeremy returned to the feast and leaned between Hermione and Draco. He whispered into their ears, telling them that Annalie found Professor Quirrell. The girl nodded and bid her thanks to the prefect with a smile. Draco scowled at the sight and asked if he should tell his father. Jeremy considered the pair for a moment, though his response was never known.

“TROLL!” A panicked voice ripped through the hall as the double oak doors slammed open. A disheveled, alarmed Professor Quirrell stuttered. “TROLL! IN THE DUNGEON!” He shrieked once more before promptly fainting.

The first year Slytherins all groaned, disbelief showing in their faces. If a single fifth year can stun it into submission, why couldn’t their professor do something about the troll? Draco nearly banged his head against the table, remembering the desserts on his plate at the last minute. Hermione chuckled as her eyes roamed the Hall. At the door, she saw a grimacing Annalie pinching the bridge of her nose, obviously irritated. 

“Well, that was productive,” Pansy groaned. “Went through all the trouble of trapping the thing so it’s easier for a professor, and he faints.”

“You would think he’d know what to do with it, considering it is his speciality,” Hermione wryly observed.

“Obviously, that is not the case,” Millie shrugged to which the girls all giggled.

“And Slytherins, follow Professor Snape,” Dumbledore bellowed above the noise, catching the attention of the young snakes. “You will all be in a safe room on the first floor. Follow your prefects, they know where to go. Do not, under any circumstance, leave until you are cleared to do so!”

At that, the benches scuffled all at once as students filed out of the Great Hall. Whispers of excitement churned the Hogwarts rumor mill, wondering how a troll could wander into the castle. Hermione convinced Draco that someone must’ve let it in, to which he resolved to write his father. 

“He’s a school governor, Hermione,” Draco explained as they walked behind Jeremy, “It’s his job to make sure Hogwarts is running well and is safe for all students.”

“I would hardly call today safe,” Hermione snorted with a shake of her head.

“At least it was exciting,” he smirked.

Anthony stood before a portrait of the Garden of Eden, whispering something to the snake on the tree. The portrait swung open, revealing a large room equipped with sleeping bags, cots, and two large restrooms, clearly marked. Decorated in neutral browns and tans, Several couches and sofas lined the walls with a large fireplace dominating the back wall. On either side, large windows displayed the vast grounds.

“You will be organized by year,” Anthony instructed as the house filtered into the room. “First years will be all the way to the left and we’ll go from there.”

At once, the little group of Slytherins moved quickly to the end of the room. As they claimed their cots in the same order they sat, the second years followed. Soon, everyone was situated and settled, going in groups to the loo and using the elf provided hygiene products. Hermione never saw the house so connected to each other. Everyone mingled and laughed, commiserated together over the evening. She could swear it brought them together closer. Even the nastiest students smiled at her for once. 

“Come on, Hermione,” Millie whined, “At least it’s a story we can tell for the rest of our lives.“

“Honestly, we are lucky no one knew we were there,” Hermione huffed as they revisited the topic of the troll. “We could have been killed, or worse -expelled!”

“Seriously? Dying is preferable to being expelled?” Draco quirked a brow at her.

“For someone like me, yes,” she muttered as she buried her head under the sheets. 

“Lights out,” Anthony announced. The house muttered and groaned at the announcement, though it didn’t stop their leader. “Goodnight Slytherin.”

A chorus of “nights” and the occasional “Right Anthony” and even a “Aye aye, Tone,” echoed through the now darkened room. Hermione, unable to sleep, simply stared at the ceiling above her head and ran through the day. After surviving a troll, all their other troubles melted away. In fact, Hermione firmly believe she could call herself at least acquainted, if not friends, with everyone in her year. A warm, fuzzy feeling suffused her being as she drifted off to sleep.

——————————————

“Not going to lie,” Jeremy muttered under his breath as he watched over his house with Annalie, “I’m disappointed in Quirrell. Our first years did a better job against that troll than he did.”

“Don’t remind me,” Annalie sighed, rubbing her temples. “Seeing them fighting that thing was more stressful than I thought it would be, even if they were doing a good job of it.”

“Do you think we did the right thing, not telling anyone else?” Jeremy murmured as he watched the first years sleep.

“I don’t know,” his counterpart replied. “It’s too late either way now.

Silence engulfed the pair as they walked around the room. They broke up a few couples, covered a student here and there before meeting up on the opposite side of the room. All the while, Annalie thought of the image they presented. Even as they left the hall, it became clear that the troll ordeal galvanized the first years. Hermione and Draco brought up the point, even as children looking every bit in charge. Behind were the two bodyguards, with everyone else filing behind, as if it were natural to walk around like that. It gave Annalie hope that her little apprentice will one day find a place, important and her own, in their world.

“I don’t suppose you noticed how the firsties were afterwards,” Jeremy voiced her thoughts.

“And what of it?” she rose an eyebrow, not willing to give an inch.

“Here, I thought you’d be ecstatic to see your little muggle-born raise to the top of her year,” the boy smirked as he leaned against a wall.

“You mean that,” Annalie chuckled as she sat up one of the couches nearby. “You can say it’s encouraging. She still needs a lot of work.”

“Yeah, but today was a step in the right direction,” Jeremy said, pensive expression turned upon the bushy head of hair sticking out from one of the cots. “Imagine what they’ll be able to do in a few years. They nearly took down a full grown mountain troll after two months of schooling.”

“Those two are going to be a force to reckon with for sure,” Annalie murmured as she leaned back and let the rest of the night flow by her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn’t resist. I think my favorite story with this is was from ‘My Life Is So Magic’ or something like that. It was a boyfriend who ran into his girlfriend’s college lecture screaming ‘there’s a troll in the dungeons’ before flopping into a faint on the ground. So, yeah, I got that inspiration. Honestly, after the last chapter, I didn’t know where I wanted to go with this: straight to holidays or something else. I figured I might as well include some of book events, and involve Harry’s quest, too.
> 
> Extra note: Incase I didn’t make it clear, since I’m sure it came out weird, this is how they are sitting:  
>  Daphne | | Millie  
>  Pansy | | Hermine  
> Teddy | | Draco  
> Crabbe | | Goyle    
> 


	8. And So It Goes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time passes in snippets of intense conversation and actions. Life goes on, and people learn. Hermione finds herself learning and growing right along with everything else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry to keep you guys waiting so long! I started writing it, got about 2k words in, and decided I hated the direction it was going. So, I changed it! I hope you guys enjoy this chapter. :)

The next day passed in a blur, and while Hermione wasn’t looking forward to it, she sat now, squirming in front of her mentor. Unsure of what to do, or say, she simply tried to compose her nerves. Surely, she didn’t do anything wrong, right?

“Well then, Hermione, why don’t you tell me what happened yesterday before the feast, in detail,” Annalie asked as she took a seat across from the girl.

In a hurry, nervous and unsure of where this would lead, Hermione related the events as best she could. From what she could remember, the story flowed from her lips. Movement caught the girl’s inquisitive eyes as a regal quill danced across some parchment settled upon the table. Knowing better than to question her mentor, Hermione simply finished her story.

“Before we knew it, you and Jeremy appeared,” the first year shrugged. “There was no one else about, and Theodore was about to go and get you. You know the rest.”

“Curious,” she murmured, and, with a flick of her wrist, the quill neatly finished the notes only to sit upon the table. “Before we go on, I find it imperative to tell you this. What you did, all of you, was beyond foolish. Ah, before you interrupt, your actions were more Gryffindor than Slytherin. Now, I understand why, so do not get defensive. We snakes protect our own undoubtably.

“Now, Jeremy and I have been talking,” Hermione’s eyes lit up at Annalie’s statement before the older girl continued, “And we have decided that we may spice up our meetings.”

“Spice up? What do you mean?” Hermione tilted her head to the side. 

“We noticed a few things,” the girl across from her steepled her fingers as she leaned back in her chair. “A few of you first years are quite intelligent, and classes appear less than challenging to you lot. In addition, we feel that things are starting to move. We decided, twice a week, to teach a few of you a few extracurricular spells.”

Hermione tilted her head, brown curls tumbling across her shoulder. Bright, brown eyes examined the girl before her. She knew for a fact that Annalie started to like her as a little sister, something Hermione felt grateful for. Thoughts flew through Hermione’s mind. What could she possibly be talking about, extracurricular spells? A strong part of her character balked at everything unfair, and did not want to learn anything considered evil or dark. 

“I see your apprehension, little snake,” Annalie grinned at her protege. “What is your question?”

“It’s not a question, per se,” Hermione began after a moment of silence. “I just don’t want to learn about something dark or evil.”

“Tell me this, what makes something dark or evil?” the older girl questioned.

“I-I don’t know,” Hermione stuttered, taken aback by the question. After quiet contemplation, hazel eyes intensely watching her, Hermione continued, “I guess something that has no redeeming quality or potential to be used in a non-destructive way. Like, if a spell is used to kill someone or… or if it is just to hurt people for pain’s sake. I don’t want to learn or use anything like that.”

“Of course, Hermione,” the older girl nodded, voice hushed. “I know that you don’t want to hurt others for no reason. You’re rather Gryffindor in that way, I must say. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you helping some Hufflepuffs or tutoring Longbottom on occasion.”

A pink flush overtook Hermione’s face. She thought that those actions were not observed. Of course, when she started doing those things, helping Zacharia Smith and Hannah Abbott, tutoring Neville, Hermione hoped no one would see it. She did it because it made her feel better about herself. Of course, after sitting with the Slytherins for long enough, she found other benefits to those interactions, and she kept it up for those reasons.

“I thought it would be best for me to have allies in other Houses,” Hermione muttered before she swung her eyes to meet those of Annalie’s. “I am not popular by any means, and being a Slytherin is enough to deter others from me. With these interactions, I have eyes and ears in almost every House. I can ask simple questions, bland and vague, and gain insight to what is happening everywhere else. Since what I do is beneficial, no one would suspect me of foul play. As it is, I have been able to warn away and deter actions by some of those in our own House.”

“Oh? Do tell,” Annalie raised an eyebrow.

“Let’s say that someone was going to have a midnight duel with some Gryffindors. With my knowledge from Neville and some persuasion, I convinced said person to alert Filch to their location,” Hermione stated, her eyes level and unreadable. “Let’s say it was maximum profit with minimal risk.”

Annalie watched Hermione during her speech. She approved of her little apprentice. She noticed the Gryffindorish tendencies from the start. Equality and giving everyone a fair chance were traits not often seen within Slytherin. The blonde girl feared that she would become an outcast, especially for her Gryffindor associations. Though Hermione’s reasons were valid, Annalie suspected that the first year still harbored the sense of fair play and respect. She noticed those she helped keep their own houses in order when it came to Hermione. 

“Very well,” the older girl nodded into the tense silence. “I will encourage those connections. For the same reasons we are going to be teaching you, I believe what you learn will be most useful. Keep your ear out, and we will talk once a week about what you learn. Even run-of-the-mill gossip can be quite useful.”

“Believe me, I know,” Hermione’s eyes sparkled with mischief. 

Annalie lifted a perfectly shaped brow in response, amused and intrigued by her actions. The rest of their meeting, they discussed miscellaneous details, asking how studying and school went, and what she thought of the recent changes in her year mate’s attitudes towards her. Laughter and gossip filled the air, mixed with instructions and small lessons.

——————————————

“Merlin, Severus, a full grown mountain troll?” an incensed Lucius Malfoy inquired. His hands gripped the desk in front of him, knuckles white, grey eyes narrowed. “How did Dumbledore allow such a thing inside here?”

“That, I believe, is most troubling of all, Lucius,” his long time friend sighed, motioning for the blonde man to sit.

“I can’t believe it,” Lucius muttered. “What wards do you have up?”

“Enough that even Albus knows not to try to enter without my permission,” the potions master replied, his lips quirking into an amused smirk. “He rather not spend his magical core on entering my quarters.”

“As expected,” the other man nodded, relaxing for the first time since entering the castle. He never truly felt at home or safe outside his manor, always exposed. The guarded mask melted from his face as he ran a hand over his face. “I didn’t think it would feel like this.”

“Hearing of your son in danger for the first time?” Severus snorted. “I admit, it is quite shocking. Luckily, Miss Granger is quite the quick thinker.”

“Tell me what really happened,” Lucius narrowed his eyes. “I heard Dumbledore’s biased and rather vague tale. I’m not fool enough to think that all that happened was a Weasley casting a correct charm.” 

“Indeed, what I saw in the children’s minds were quite loud and unique,” Severus sighed before explaining what images he caught from Draco’s mind. “In the end, Miss Southington and Mister Selwyn decided to contact the defense professor. In the middle of the feast, he entered and collapsed, effectively creating a diversion.”

“To do what?” the blonde man asked, brow furrowed in concentrated thought.

“I believe that Professor Quirrell is trying to obtain the Philosopher’s Stone,” the potion’s master murmured into the silence. “His mind is suddenly shielded as never before, there are some odd odors coming from him, and that is to name a few. The most troubling part is this.”

Severus Snape lifted his left arm and rolled back his robes. Faint, raised edges of an elaborate scar marred the otherwise pale skin of his forearm. A light grey painted an image of a snake bursting from a skull, haunting and eerie. In the flickering torchlight of the dungeon, it appeared dark and sinister, freezing both me.

“Sweet Salazar,” the other man groaned. 

“My thoughts exactly. I don’t know how or when it happened, but I have no delusions for whom Quirrell works,” Severus stated. “I have made my choice, Lucius. I know which side I am on, and make no mistakes, He will raise again. You will need to make your own decisions.”

“I know, Severus, I know,” the blonde man sighed, head in his hands as the shock of the news travelled through his mind. “I can’t put Cissy through that again. Not when she’s finally healed and happy. Merlin, what about Draco? He would use them all without a second thought.”

Few things in Lucius Malfoy’s life turned out to be what he thought. As a youth, he believed all his family taught him. Pureblood witches and wizards were the only ones worth knowing, that family reigned supreme, and that the Dark Lord would bring the Wizarding World to a new golden age. After school, he married and joined the Death Eaters, eager to place his mark on the world.

Lucius didn’t expect the brutality, cruel and carnal. Blood and screams, the taking of life, killing of children, parents, husbands and wives. He tried to rationalize it for the longest time. Muggle and mud bloods weren’t people, they were animals to be slaughtered. He tried every hackneyed, cliched ideal his family pounded into him, and yet none could save his mind or sanity.

He witnessed the Dark Lord rip families apart, prey and use his followers like lambs led to slaughter. Lucius tried his very best to keep his new wife out of the fray, but when He discovered she was with child, the Dark Lord wanted his son, too. Fear flooded his body anew. For his son. For his wife. He would do anything for them. 

“Severus, where do you stand?” Lucius whispered, the weight of his family’s safety heavy upon his shoulders. 

“With Lily,” the other man answered in kind, eyes open and honest, sincerity that the potions master rarely displayed for anyone, even his closest friends. “As it always has.”

“And your views? Did you ever truly believe them?” the blond man murmured. Lily Potter nee Evans, the only love that the potions master knew, was still a muggle-born. Intelligent, fiery, loyal, kind, powerful for a witch, but still a muggle-born. “How could you knowing her as you did?”

“There were views I did not agree with, true enough,” Severus acquiesced. “Yet, I wanted many others that He opposed gone. It took me too long to see the truth.”

“And where does that leave me?” a humorless chuckle escaped Lucius. 

“With time to make the best choice for your family,” the potions master leveled a calculated, earnest stare at his best friend. True, not many people knew the real Lucius Malfoy under all the layers of pureblood arrogance and rich aristocracy, but he could never hide from the potions master. “We both know that there is only one way to truly protect your family, as I am assuming you are intelligent enough to understand that He will not help you nor your accounts.”

“Don’t even remind me,” the blonde man groaned once more. “I had to get into dealing with muggle just to restore my vaults. Draco’s and Cissy’s were never touched, but the man knew how to run through galleons.” 

“I didn’t know you associated with muggles, Lucius,” Severus quirked a brow.

“It is not well known for a reason,” the other man chuckled. “I deal with society more so than the commoners. It is quite lucrative business, as well. They are quite inventive, I must admit.” 

“I take it you have made your decision, then,” the potions master observed. 

“I suppose I have,” Lucius nodded in reply. “Though, it wasn’t much of a choice. Now then, I believe there is much we should speak of on that topic. I don’t suppose you have a good bottle of firewhisky or cognac?”

A flick of the potion master’s wand brought two tumblers upon a silver platter. A decanter filled with amber liquid sat innocently between the glasses. Smooth, practiced motions poured a liberal amount into each, before handing one to Lucius. With a soft thanks and a nod, Severus took his own glass.

“Too freedom,” he said, a soft clink echoing through the room.

“Indeed, now on to business,” Lucius began.

——————————————

November flew by Hermione. The new protection she found in her group of Slytherins made school much more bearable. Even the first quidditch games of the season were somewhat enjoyable. She found studying with Theo and Millie to be her favorite pastime, and even brought them in to her group study sessions. 

As the days passed, she became well acquainted with several of the Ravenclaws and Neville even brought along the Gryffindor Patil twin. The three of Slytherins became ‘ambassadors’ of their House. First years, at least, weren’t so wary of them, which allowed for some interesting news and gossip. Hermione, personally, found some interesting dirt on Marcus Flint, who still took every opportunity to hex her. 

Pansy and she became good friends as well, though their relationship was a bit more turbulent. They fought still, usually over petty things, but always made up in the end. What surprised Hermione the most was the discovery of the quiet intelligence that Crabbe and Goyle possessed. Greg had a knack for charms, while Vince took to new, offensive spells quickly. 

Perhaps her favorite were her biweekly joint lessons with Jeremey, Annalie, and Draco. Jeremey taught the first years basic hexes and curses and how to apply them in many different situations. Annalie complimented these with counter-curses and basic healing. Hermione found that she worked well with Draco. Neither pulled punches. He found her to be powerful, while she discovered him to be resourceful, sharpening their wits against the other.

“Really now, if I thought this would have solved the problem, I would have done this from the beginning,” Jeremey chortled one Saturday late in November.

“What problem?” Hermione asked, eyes large and innocent. Annalie snickered, knowing her apprentice to be working on an acting assignment for her. 

“The one with you lot,” the boy gestured between Hermione and Draco. 

“I don’t know which one you’re talking about,” Hermione continued, appearing confused. “I mean, my hair isn’t as hard as a rock!”

“It’s called hair potion, Hermione, you could use some,” Draco eyed her bouncy, bushy mess.

“No, I want my hair to be soft and touchable,” she retorted. “Not as hard as the floor.”

“My hair is quite silky to the touch, thank you,” the boy growled. 

“Really then,” the girl raised an eyebrow in challenge. “How is it that we’ve been here, dueling and spelling at each other, yet not a hair on your head as moved?”

“It’s called magic, Hermione,” he sneered. “Ever heard of it?”

“No, it’s called ‘gelling my hair to the point where it could serve as a shield,” she sniggered. “Which is probably a good strategy. At least your head is protected from damage. What do you think Annalie?”

“You will not drag me into this one,” the older girl chuckled. 

“See, she agrees with me,” Hermione stuck her tongue out.

“No, she didn’t,” came the indignant response of the blonde boy.

“It was a diplomatic answer. She wouldn’t want you to know her opinion either way,” the young girl rolled her eyes. “If she disagreed, Annalie would have no problem saying so.”

“I assure you that my hair is perfectly fine,” Draco growled at Hermione, eyes narrowing.

“I prefer nice, thick hair, thanks,” she breezily responded, carelessly tossing her hair behind her shoulder. 

“You’re impossible,” the boy groaned, to which Hermione simply smirked. 

“And what do we have here?” A cold baritone filled the practice room. 

All four Slytherins turned to see their head of house stalk towards them, black robes billowing behind him. Hermione stiffened as a wave of realization hit her. She nodded imperceptibly at the professor, steeling herself for the upcoming meeting. 

“Just tutoring the firsties, Professor,” Jeremey answered with a good natured smile.

“Naturally,” the man deadpanned. “I didn’t realize hair potions were part of the curriculum. If you will excuse me, I will be taking Miss Granger from your scintillating lesson.”

A look of embarrassment and amusement radiated from the other three. Draco scowled at his godfather, while Jeremy simply chuckled. Hermione took a deep, cleansing breath and followed the potions master from the room, dreading what was to come. She heard Annalie and Jeremey talking once more, trying to catch Draco’s attention. The blonde boy could not be won over, as his silver eyes bored into the back of the brunette leaving the room, a deep frown upon his face.

“Do you think she’ll be okay?” Jeremey murmured as the footsteps became quieter.

“No,” the blonde girl frowned. “She never is after those meetings.”

——————————————

“And you say that these friends of yours are people of rank in the magical world?” Her mother asked, false sweetness and care in her voice. 

“Yes, Mum,” Hermione dully replied. “I have been invited by both the Southingtons and the Bulstrodes to stay for part of the holiday with them. The Malfoys and Parkinsons have also invited me over for meals and parties.”

“And tell me, my duckling, why should I let you go?” the tall brunette tilted her head to the side. “I don’t know any of them, and they could only be using you for their own ends. And what of us and our engagements and obligations? I know you are not quite old enough for all of them, but the banquet for the Foundation would require your attendance.”

“I already asked, and they said that if I am needed elsewhere, I am more than free to go,” Hermione murmured, eyes downcast, knowing her mother didn’t truly care.

“How convenient,” she said, eyes shrewd in their examinations. “You know I do not enjoy you burdening others. Lord knows you are enough for us. However, we cannot let anyone at the Foundation know of any of your less savory aspects, can we?”

“No Mum,” the obedient reply.

“Wonderful, my little duckling, wonderful,” the elder woman clapped. “Here are a list of the dates and what i expect you to get. Remember, you will need to schedule a trip with Mrs. Hill to get them all before their dates. Also, make a trip to the salon. I want to see something done about that.” She gestured to the brown hair. 

“Of course, Mum,” the girl sighed, finger fidgeting in her lap.

“What did I tell you about doing that?” the woman’s sharp soprano broke through the silence.

“N-not to do it,” Hermione gulped, eyes wide as she watched her mother.

“Exactly, duckling, now why were you doing it?” the mother’s cold words washed over Hermione.

“I-I don’t know,” she mumbled, hoping not to call more attention to herself.

“Is there any other business you have with Miss Granger, Mrs. Granger?” Professor Snape’s deep baritone broke through the tension. “You may not be aware, but I had to pull her away fromlessons with some of the elder students. I am sure she is anxious to return.”

Hermione shot a grateful glance at her Head of House. Ever since these weekly meetings started, he became a constant source of relief and comfort. Though he never said much, nor did he ever stick up for her, he always made sure that nothing got out of hand. In class, he acted suspiciously kind towards her. His comments were more critical and less acerbic and demeaning, and her essays always had some excellent pointers. She grew fond of his cold stoicism, and found amusement in his creative insults. 

“I suppose there is nothing more, Professor,” Elizabeth Granger frowned, eyes narrowed at the dark man behind the desk. “Though, I don’t suppose it would do any good to advise you to get a better office.”

“I assure you, Mrs. Granger, that I have no plans on moving my personal office,” Snape’s cold voice froze the woman. Hermione could barely contain her shock, Annalie’s lessons in hiding emotion coming in good use. “Miss Granger, you are dismissed.”

Her brown hair bobbed with a nod as she stood up, giving an obligatory hug to her mother, before she left the dungeon office. Nothing could make her want to stay any longer. Short, quick strides brought her into the Entrance Hall towards the main staircase. She knew that Annalie still had her books, and that Draco would want to know what happened. Draco’s interrogations always wore her even further, and Hermione didn’t look forward to it.

“Hey, watch where you’re going, beaver,” growled a Gryffindor. 

“Ron, calm down, we’ve got to meet Hagrid-“ Harry Potter sighed, trying to pull his friend away.

Hermione silently stood up, making sure her wand remained in her pocket. With a nod at Neville, she started away from the small group of boys.

“Oi! I’m talking to you, muggle,” Weasley shouted at her back. “Where do you think you’re going without apologizing?”

“Seeing as it takes two to tango, and you haven’t bothered being civil, I see no reason in responding to your atrocious manners,” Hermione scowled at the red head.

“You are the little piece of filth who doesn’t belong here,” Weasley sneered at her. “So, it should be you to apologize.”

“I’m sorry,” Hermione began, tone contrite and mocking, “that your brain is made of straw.” 

“Ron, really, let’s go,” Potter mumbled, pulling at the boy’s arm.

“No brain? I don’t need to be a genius to hex you,” the red headed Gryffindor spat. 

“On the contrary, I believe you do. Now then, if you don’t mind, I have some work to get back to,” Hermione rolled her eyes. “Potter, Neville.”

Hermione turned her back and continued down the hall. Not a moment later, she heard Potter yell out, Neville call her name, and then something hit her back. She started to cough, and was blasted forward, thrown with a flipendo. She hit her head on the ground with a resounding thunk. _And I thought today couldn’t get any worse,_ was her last morose thought before blacking out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn’t quite know how to proceed with this scene. I wanted Annalie and Hermione to have some sort of talk, and it took me a while to find a suitably good way to go about it. I know this is a super slow burn when it come to characters, but I hope it is worth it for everyone to read. I want to play with them and have them learn about each other over time, to make the whole relationship organic and feeling real.


	9. A Horrible Start to the Holidays

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holidays roll around and Hermione finds herself in the middle of it all. Thrown into the muggle world after four months of magical schooling, Hermione discovers she no longer fits in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before I go on, there are a few things I want to point out that are important about this chapter. First of all, for those of you who have been through emotional and mental abuse, there is quite a bit of in the latter portion of this chapter. I promise the resolution is ‘good’ or ‘happy.’ I will explain more fully at the end notes. Please enjoy the chapter, and know that everything will turn out alright.

“I still can’t believe he only had to serve a week’s worth of detention with Filch,” Pansy growled for the fifth time. “Bloody Gryffindors. If it was one of us, we’d be expelled.”

“At least the rest of his house can’t stand to look at him,” Millie pointed out.

Indeed, not even Potter sat near the youngest Weasley at the Gryffindor table. The house shot dirty looks at the red head, who glared at Hermione every few minutes. For two weeks, he muttered under his breath about how horrible she was, cursing her name every time they crossed path. 

“Well, Professor Snape did take fifty points from Gryffindor,” Hermione shrugged as she glanced up at the post coming in. “Millie, did you get an answer from your mum?”

“It just came,” the other girl grinned, waving the envelope in her hand. “Let’s see… Trade off with the Southingtons, blah blah blah, oh! Do you having anything on New Year’s?”

“I don’t think so, no,” Hermione slowly replied. “The last one is the day before, why?”

“Mum thinks the best idea would be to take you home after the Malfoy’s annual New Year’s party,” Millie hummed. “That way, you will have spent some time with the Southingtons. She also invited Pansy and Daphne over.”

“We can have a sleep over,” Pansy squealed with excitement leaning over to read the letter. “That is perfect!”

“Do you know what has them all excited this early in the morning,” grumbled Draco, eyes half open.

“Something about where Hermione’ll stay during the hols,” the brunette boy shrugged.

“I don’t think I’m invited to the New Year’s party,” Hermione murmured quietly, leaning over to read the letter in Millie’s hands.

“What party is she talking about,” the still drowsy Draco asked Theo.

“I believe it is your’s,” the other boy smirked.

“Then we’ll just pick you up after the party. I’m sure Mum will let us leave a bit early to get you,” Millie patted Hermione on the back.

“Have you received any other party invitations?” Daphne asked Hermione.

As the girls discussed their obligations, Draco watched the brunette beside him. Animated hands accompanied her words, illustrating their point. The girls around her nodded and laughed, talked and gossiped. All the while, none of her smiles met her eyes, the laughs sounded forced, and even her gasps were a moment too late.

“I thought Mum invited her,” Draco frowned at the boy across from her. “Hey, Hermione,” he poked the girl in the side. She squealed and nearly fell off the bench.

“Really, Draco,” she scowled at the boy. “Couldn’t tap me on he shoulder?”

“It’s nowhere near as fun,” he smirked at her.

“Git,” she playfully glared at him. 

“But you love me anyways,” he retorted.

“That is a highly debatable opinion,” she rolled her eyes. “What was so important that you had to poke me for?”

“What are you doing for the holidays?” he asked, voice casual, but his eyes intently observing her.

“Why do you want to know,” she narrowed her eyes at him, walls erecting within moments. 

“Just curious,” the blond boy shrugged.

“I’ll be going home for a few days, attending a few parties, and then going to Annalie’s until New Year,” she warily replied, not quite knowing how to take the sudden line of questioning. 

“Where are your parents going to be?” he raised a platinum brow.

“Does it matter? I’ll not be with them,” she retorted. “Have you received any owls recently?”e room 

“I never get owls, Draco. Everyone knows that,” she murmured more so to herself than the boy next to her.

“Then how do you know of your invitations?” he asked, brow furrowed.

“Mum tells me,” she shrugged, eyes fixed on the cleared plate before her.

Unsure what to say, Draco watched her for a moment, wishing he could do something. However, the bell for class rang, breaking the moment. Hermione, the first to leave as always, didn’t notice two pairs of eyes watching her. Draco’s grey eyes frowned at her from across the room, unsure of what to do before picking up and following her. 

Pansy, unbeknownst to the two others, watched the whole exchange. She never noticed before how well Draco and Hermione got on. She always heard them arguing, bickering more like. They could never agree on any point, and appeared to have contrary opinions on everything. Yet, she had never seen her best friend act like that before, and she wasn’t sure she liked it.

——————————————

“Where were you, Hermione?” Pansy asked as the brunette entered the compartment.

“Saying goodbye to some people, telling them to have a good holiday,” the brunette shrugged. “I won’t be seeing them until next year, and I thought it would be polite.”

“Did you know that Blaise is going to be coming back next semester?” Daphne grinned at Theo and Greg. “His mother finally relented to moving back and letting him attend Hogwarts!”

“About time,” Draco huffed, sitting in the middle of the group of Slytherin first years. “It hasn’t been the same without him here.”

Hermione sat at the edge of the compartment, once more feeling alone. Sometimes, she forgot that these people knew each other for their whole lives. She opened _Hogwarts: A History_ , thumbing through the pages, not wanting to make a fool of herself. She listened as they reminisced about their Italian friend, how he was going to be amazing, and the school year would be that much better.

A familiar coldness washed through the brunette, sure that none of them noticed her beyond Pansy’s initial outcry. She took a moment and followed Annalie’s advice, shoving all those hurtful, painful thoughts and shoving them into a metal box in her mind. She didn’t want them to see how much it hurt. She may not have had friends before, but she did now, at least that’s what she thought.

“Hermione, what do you think,” Theo’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts.

“Oh, sorry, what are we talking about?” the brunette raised her eyes, noticing several expectant faces in her direction. A faint blush painted her cheeks.

“Lost in a book again, ‘Mione?” Vince chuckled.

“Why yes, Vince,” she retorted with a playful glare. “And it’s Hermione, please.”

“Right, well, as I was saying,” Draco grinned, “I found Potter the other day in the library. I was going to hex his hair purple or something, but instead I overheard him muttering about Nicholas Flamel. We were wondering if you ever heard of him or why Potter would want to know about him in the first place.”

Hermione nibbled her lower lip, legs curled under her body as she thought. The name sounded familiar, as if it were something she was supposed to know. Without a second thought, she flipped through her book to the index, but no luck. She swore she read it somewhere for school.

“Do any of you have the History of Magic book with you?” she finally asked, as everyone else whispered amongst themselves. “I remember reading it for something, but I’m not sure if it was for school or just extra light reading.”

“Your reading is anything but light,” Pansy sniggered.

“It is light for my mind, Pans, and that’s the important bit,” she winked at her friend, causing the other girl to laugh.

“Here is the History book, Hermione,” Theo handed her the thick volume.

“You’d think she had the thing memorized by now,” Draco smirked.

“Maybe I do and am just keeping you lot in suspense for relying on me to do all the work,” Hermione rolled her eyes, flipping the pages of the book. A frown appeared, yielding nothing of use. “I can’t tell you how frustrating it is to know you’ve heard a name and not know where it came from. I swear, one day I’ll have the largest bloody library known to wizard kind.”

“Ah yes, Chateau de Livres,” Millie grinned. “Where the shelves are many, the fires warm, and there are books as far as the eye can see.”

Everyone laughed, except Hermione who gave a dreamy sigh. 

“If I could marry a character, I would,” she smiled dreamily.

“We’ve lost her,” Daphne snickered. “Again.”

“Who do you think it is this time?” Pansy grinned. “Darcy?”

“Most likely, knowing her,” Millie added in, and all the girls laughed.

“You know that Blaise is going to love her, right?” Theo grinned as the girls started to debate something or the other. 

“Love her?” Draco turned towards the other boy, brow furrowed.

“Really, Drake, you call yourself his best friend,” Greg chuckled. “He would get along with her just fine. His family isn’t like our’s, so he won’t care about things like blood. He likes to read, so does she.”

“Why, are you getting jealous, mate?” Theo smirked.

“Me? Jealous?” he asked, affronted by the insinuation. “Malfoys don’t get jealous.”

“Maybe not Malfoys in general,” Theo snarked back, face smug. “But I’m pretty sure this one does.”

Draco scowled at his friend before changing the subject to something else. They played a game of ‘Potter is so stupid’ which lasted until they arrived at the train station. Noisy goodbye’s characterized the station, as students and new friends bid farewell for the holiday season. Snow glittered in the beams from the lampposts. 

Walking towards the group of Slytherin parents, Hermione hugged the girls around her, promising letters and gifts. They all smiled and waved goodbye, their parents echoing the sentiments. After the Southingtons gave Hermione specific directions concerning picking her up, Hermione bid her mentor goodbye. Chocolate curls bounced as she turned to find her own parents, only to find the Malfoys behind her. 

“Hello Mrs. Malfoy, Mister Malfoy,” she smiled at the couple. “How are you this evening?”

“We are wonderful, dear,” Mrs. Malfoy smiled at the young girl. “Just wondering if we could meet your parents is all.”

“Oh,” she froze. “I’m sure they’re somewhere.”

She continued to look around for her parents, false smile on her lips the whole time. Next to her, Draco copied her actions, unsure of what else they were supposed to do. 

“They should be here,” Hermione frowned only to hear her name being called. She found an older woman, greying black hair tied at the nape of her neck. “They sent Mrs. Hill. I will be fine.”

“Ah,” Mrs. Malfoy nodded, a cloud of confusion hovering over. “I see, is she your…?”

“She’s my nanny of sorts,” Hermione answered, looking down. “My mother says she’s a governess, but, well, she’s here and I should go. Thank you for seeing me, Mrs. Malfoy, Mister Malfoy,” she nodded at each adult. “I’ll see you over the holiday, Draco.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you will,” he responded, haughty expression upon his face. “Are you going to be alright?”

“What’s the worst they can do?” Hermione shrugged, trying to reassure her friend. “I’ll be at Annalie’s soon enough. A few days here won’t kill me.” The unspoken ‘physically’ hung between the pair.

“We hope to see you at the New Year’s party,” Mr. Malfoy nodded at the young girl. 

“Ah well,” she blushed looking at her shoes. “I never received an invitation, so Millie will be picking me up afterwards.”

“Darling, I sent you an invitation at the beginning of the month,” the lady frowned.

“Ah, well, you see, I don’t get any of my owls directly,” Hermione said, trying to keep the nerves out of her voice. “My mum went to the ministry and requested that all owls in my name be directed towards her.”

“I see,” the elder Malfoy nodded. “Well, consider this an invitation.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Malfoy,” a bright, beatific smile graced Hermione’s face. “Now then, I think Mrs. Hill needs me to go. It was nice to see you again.”

With a final parting farewell between the children, Hermione walked towards the lady calling after her. Behind, she left a pair of adults more puzzled and disturbed than before. Her friend, well aware of her mother’s antics, simply frowned, hoping that she will get out of the bad situation sooner rather than later. Her moods after her weekly ‘talks’ never were good, and he hated he could do little to make it better.

The small family went home, dined, and listened to Draco’s stories before Narcissa shooed her son to bed. In their private sitting rooms, the couple sat together in front of a roaring fire. Her brow furrowed in thought, wondering about the young witch they saw. Proper manners, well spoken, and yet something appeared amiss with her.

“How much do you think he knows?” Narcissa absentmindedly asked.

“Much more than he lets on,” Lucius sighed. “Severus plays moderator during their visits. From what he tells me, she is a right harpy, worse than Lilac even.”

Narcissa flinched, knowing her friend to be quite strict with Pansy. She wondered if the girl truly felt as confident as she appeared. Her guess would be no, but one never truly understands or knows. 

“She is such a sweet thing,” the witch murmured, leaning against her husband. “I cannot imagine mistreating such a child.”

“I cannot answer to that point,” he sighed, loosely holding her. “I do know that Severus is quite fond of her. Mentioned that if he and Lily ever had a child, he imagine it’d be like Miss Granger.”

“That is an interesting thought,” the woman mused. “If someone were to adopt her, she would be quite protected. Even if her mother were to go off the deep end, she wouldn’t be considered her legal guardian according to the Ministry.” 

“I will mention it to the dungeon bat then,” he chuckled softly. “I am sure he would be quite intrigued, though, there is something quite serious we need to discuss.”

They spent the rest of the night conversing about what Severus told Lucius weeks before. Much crying happened, pain and promises, and, by the morning light, the beginnings of a plan. One they would put into motion as soon as they could. The first step would be in talking with their son. 

——————————————

Hermione rarely saw her parents. They stayed at the penthouse by the office. She would get the occasional letter from an assistant, always happy to receive the letters from her friends. She even got a couple floo calls, happy and excited to know that her fireplace was linked. Each evening passed painfully slow, as she pretended she attended Rutherford’s School for Girls. 

She never told her friends this, but she took part of a correspondence muggle school. She knew everything that her classmates would, never missing a beat. Though there were times when she wanted to take her wand out and do something, she resisted the itch. 

The final night of her stay, she put on a pretty dress, the best she got, for the Foundation’s annual fundraiser and holiday gala. Her day whizzed by from salon appointment to last minute instructions by her mother, Hermione could only sigh and thought to herself: one more dance, just one more dance.

A variable wonderland of glitter and pale blues greeted Hermione’s honey eyes. She couldn’t believe the sight. Whites and grey mixed with the soft blues and purples, dim lights adding to the magical effect. If it were for the fact that it was a muggle event, Hermione would have sworn that someone casted a few charms.

“Now, my duckling, I heard that some major financial backers of the Foundation decided to attend the event this year,” her mother murmured into her ear as they stood in the queue to enter. “When we meet them, I need you to be on your best behavior. Mummy and Daddy need a few new things for the office, as well as a remodel, and I don’t want you to ruin our chances. Understand?”

“Yes, Mum,” Hermione demurred, eyes taking in all the details.

“I heard they have a son your age, so, just like the others, I want you to play nice and hide your oddities,” she continued.

“Lizzy, we’re next. Come on,” her father nudged his wife. Hermione shot a grateful smile at him, to which he winked. “We don’t want to make a bad impression, do we?”

“Of course, love, you are right,” she murmured, elegant smile upon her face.

They stepped into the hall and were ushered to their seats for the dinner portion of the event. With a sigh, Hermione mingled with the other high class kids, many of which she saw just days before at the last social function. Several of the girls came up to her, and she placed her handy Slytherin mask of detached interest in place, attending to their conversation with minute details. 

“How is Muffy doing, Cindy?” Hermione asked, remembering the sick puppy.

“She is wonderful, thank you for asking,” the little blonde girl smiled at her. “I can’t say how glad I am that Mummy called the vet over.”

“Of course,” she played along. “No one wants a sick pet.”

“Thank you for understanding,” the girl smiled. “It’s a shame you got to Rutherford’s in Scotland, otherwise we could go to St. Anne’s together and be best friends!”

“I’m sure,” she gave a noncommittal smile before another child her age started talking to her about something else.

“Why, Miss Granger, I didn’t expect to see you here,” a familiar baritone caught the brunette by surprise.

“Mister Malfoy,” she gasped, eyes going wide for a moment, before remembering her manners. With a polite curtsey, “It’s a pleasure to see you here, sir. My parents are part of the Foundation, and requested my attendance.”

“I am sure they did,” he murmured more to himself. “And can you tell me who they are? I do not recall the pleasure of meeting of them at the Luncheon.”

“Of course, sir,” she nodded, with a small smile. She turned towards the other kids and excused herself as taught. With every lesson Annalie taught her, Hermione led Mr. Malfoy to her parents. “Mum, Daddy, this is Mister Malfoy, Draco’s dad. Mister Malfoy, these are my parents, Doctors Richard and Elizabeth Granger.”

“Ah, the two celebrity dentists if I recall correctly,” he nodded. “I must say I am disappointed to hear you were too busy to attending the annual luncheon. It is a rather important tradition of ours.”

“We apologize,” Richard smiled at the imposing blonde man, his wife too shocked to say anything. “We had a prior engagement scheduled a month or so in advance. We were able to meet her afterwards, of course.”

“And what did you think of the castle?” the blonde man probed.

“Unfortunately, Professor Snape told us we couldn’t view it due to the time,” the brunette man smiled sadly. “From what Hermione tells us, it is quite magnificent.”

“Indeed,” Lucius murmured.

“Of course, we would just love the chance to tour it,” Mrs. Granger supplied, hoping to save this meeting before it got out of hand.

“Naturally, Doctor Granger, I would imagine anyone would like such a chance,” He stated, voice cold and distant.

“We are so proud of our Hermione,” the woman continued, hoping to make amends for some unknown faux pas. “She told us all about her classes and how well she is doing. Top of her class.”

“Miss Granger is quite intelligent. I would expect no less from her,” the blonde man watched the pair in front of him. “Between my son and her Professor, I have heard quite a bit about her academic exploits.”

“Then you must know how incredibly honored we are to have her represent our family,” she gave another saccharine sweet smile.

“Indeed, and if you will permit me to introduce my family,” Lucius motioned with his hand. 

Within moments, Mrs. Malfoy and Draco came over, surprise written all over their face. _Well, written perhaps isn’t the best word,_ Hermione mused. If she weren’t being trained by Annalie, nor such good friends with Draco, Hermione figured she wouldn’t be able to detect the shock in their expressions. The boy wore it all over his eyes and the corner of his mouth made to almost drop. His mother, more practiced, accepted the fact with slightly dilated pupils and the slight raise of an eyebrow.

“Hermione, what a pleasure to see you again so soon,” Narcissa smiled kindly at the girl.

“It is wonderful to see you again, Mrs. Malfoy,” she beamed at the blonde woman.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were going to be here!” Draco exclaimed. 

“Yes, well, hello to you, too Draco,” she smirked at the boy. “My holiday is going wonderfully, of course. No major pet deaths or any such oddities have occurred, thank you for your concern.”

“Merlin, if I knew you were here, I wouldn’t have floated around and just ignored people,” the boy rolled his eyes.

“Why Draco, are you invoking the name of a fictional wizard and not the holy Lord’s name?” she asked with a straight face and eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Because-“ he began before looking around and realizing where they stood. “Er…”

“I apologize for his momentary fit of insanity,” Hermione turned towards the parents solemnly, though the Slytherins could see the obvious joke. “Now, do you have anything to say for yourself?”

“Yes,” he rolled his eyes, “I apologize for saying the name of a very real, historically recorded wizard to the more mythical, historically ambiguous religious figure.”

“Now, now, children, play nice,” Narcissa lightly scolded the children with a small smirk.

“Yes, now if you will both allow us to continue,” the amused Lucius Malfoy interrupted whatever verbal spar began, “This is my wife, Narcissa Malfoy, and my son, Draco Malfoy. As you can see, Draco and your daughter are well acquainted as they go to school together and were sorted in the same House.”

All throughout the light hearted conversation, Hermione could feel her mother’s brown eyes burn into her face. She knew that evening at home would be horrible, and that the rest of the night would be just as torturous as soon as the Malfoys left. While her smile remained in place, Elizabeth Granger’s eyes nearly glared at her daughter’s inappropriate behavior. 

“I trust you know about the little mishap that happened around Halloween?” Lucius asked, bringing Elizabeth’s attention back to the elegant pair before her. 

“I assure you, unless it is of some great importance, I do not,” she sniffed. “I try not to discuss her oddities whenever possible. As it is, I do not want to draw undue attention to her. I have others believing she goes to Rutherford’s School for Girls. We cannot let them know the truth, can we?”

“Naturally, Doctor Granger,” Narcissa smiled at the woman as a shark does a fish. “I wouldn’t with to alert others to the true nature of her education. Ah yes,” she continued, as if an idea hit her, “I suppose you are curious as why a couple such as us are here.”

“It has crossed my mind, yes,” the brunette woman narrowed her eyes, not liking the turn of conversation.

“You see, my husband and I are always interested in progress, be it here or there,” the blonde woman smiled, pleasant and unassuming.

“She’s dead,” Draco whispered into Hermione’s ear. “Anytime Mum looks like that, it is never, ever a good thing.” Hermione simply quirked her brow in answer, watching the scene unfold.

“Well, we decided to pull some funds together and support pioneers in their field as they continued to revolutionize the worlds, for a small price of course,” Narcissa hummed. “With some time and dedication, we pulled the very best and brightest of their field to form the Foundation. Due to our circumstance, we rarely attend official events. We are rather busy people, you understand.”

“Ah yes, we heard you would be here,” Richard smiled in an attempt to break the tension. “I know that Lizzy, here, talks to Hermione every week, but I hardly hear a word worth hearing. If we knew that her friend would be here, we would have sought you out earlier.”

“What do you mean you don’t talk to your daughter often?” Lucius remarked. “Do you not send her letters?”

“It would be quite useless, you see,” Richard responded good-naturedly. “Lizzy, here, insisted that all post be forwarded to us as her parents. That is how it is often done with us. The family house gets all the mail and what not. Since she is away from home, she does not receive any of her own mail. I try to get what i can to her, but Lizzy often forgets it at home.”

“And you say you visit your daughter weekly?” Narcissa inquired. “Whatever do you talk of?”

“Well, since she is at that school,” Elizabeth Granger replied, stiff as a board, “We decided she needs a proper education. I bring her real course work, and review and retrieve her assignments.”

Draco gaped at Hermione openly. He always made fun of her love of the library, teasing her about how she should marry a book when she grew up. Of course, she always pouted and said maybe she should and stomp away. He never knew that she did twice the work of the rest of us. No wonder she appeared so stressed during midterm exams! He watched her look down in shame, an embarrassed flush upon her cheeks. He really disliked her mother.

“To my knowledge, she is receiving a proper education,” the blonde woman sneered. 

“And I am sure to you she is,” the other woman condescendingly replied. “However, what can she do with that in the future? How will she ever find a proper husband? Who would take a wife who didn’t know the first thing about technology or history, common knowledge, science? Very few, I assure you.”

“Do you not think it a possibility that she will ever find a place in our world?” Lucius asked, trying to keep the rage from his voice.

“I may be presuming too much here,” Richard tried once more, in vain, to release some of the rising tension, “However, from what Hermione told us before leaving, and from what Lizzy told me of their visits, very few people would take a chance on her due to her parentage. I believe what Lizzy is trying to say, is that we are afraid no one we deem appropriate or worthy enough would look at her twice, or want her.”

At this, Hermione took a deep breath and bit her lip, hard. She didn’t want to talk about this. Not here. Not when it is the day before Christmas Eve, and tomorrow she would be at Annalie’s, away from all of this. Horrified ears listened as her parents uncovered deep seated insecurities to show in front of these people. She couldn’t bare to face these fears, not here, not now, maybe not ever. Tears stung at the corners of her eyes, hand balled into angry fists at her side. 

Beside her, Draco stiffened, looking between Hermione and the adults, wanting to do nothing more than drag her away. He never knew parents could be so mean to their own children. While his own yelled at him from time to time, usually about something like flying brooms inside or the one time he climbed the tree and fell out of it, he never heard them talk about him like this; as if they didn’t want him in the first place.

“May I ask how you drew those conclusions,” were the frosty words from Narcissa Malfoy. 

“She mentioned how important blood is to many of her acquaintances,” Elizabeth replied, tone just as cold. “And the rest disliked her for where the school decided she belonged. It sounds like a hopeless cause, if you ask me. She mentioned some were nicer to her recently, but I doubt that continues. Even if it does, this is all just a phase. She needs to find a proper husband somehow, and if taking her to these events is what it takes to knock some sense into that fuzzy head of her’s, so be it.”

“Is that what you think of us?” Lucius glowered at the adults next to him. Perhaps the girl got her manners from her governess, not this woman. “I will have you know that when it comes down to it, we protect our own. It is also against our laws to censor her post as you do. I will tell you this once, so you best remember it,” the man continued in a dangerous, low voice. “You do not want to cross me, my family, nor those I decide to protect.”

He turned on his shiny heel, not bothering with a dismissal or farewell. Hermione imagined black robes swirling behind the man as she often saw her Potions Master’s do. _Though,_ she reasoned, _no one could quite make their robes billow quite like Professor Snape._ She tried to hold back a watery, irrational chuckle, not daring to look up as Narcissa shot a parting, withering sneer at the woman. Draco’s eyes darted between his parents and his friends, not wanting to leave her behind with the awful people. 

“I’ll talk to my Dad and see what we can do about getting you away from here,” he leaned in and whispered, his eyes speaking volumes if she dared to look up. “It will be alright.”

“O-okay,” she mumbled, bumping shoulders to try and reassure them both. 

With a final nod, he took off and started talking to his father before the family of blondes were swallowed by the crowd. Hermione didn’t even look up, afraid of her parent’s silent rage. Instead, she turned towards the entrance of the hall, knowing what came next. She retrieved their coats and waited patiently, hoping they would never come. Yet, she had never been particularly lucky. 

None of them noticed the disillusioned blonde man cast a tracking spell on Hermione. Nor did they see the odd blur above their car as they drove back to the suburban home kept for Hermione. As the silent fury of Elizabeth Granger drew to it’s peak, Hermione sitting obediently as a hound waiting for it’s whipping, no one heard the door squeak as another snuck into the room.

“Look what you have done,” began the woman, her voice scarcely a whisper. “Not only did we make a fool of ourselves, we will never get that grant! All because of you. You just had to know them, didn’t you? Fancy yourself great and important now that you’re a witch,” she spat the last word as one would a curse. “Think you’re someone special, hm?”

“N-no Mother,” Hermione gulped, her mother in rare form.

“Then what is your problem?” the woman growled. “We were all set to get the remodel underway, attract some more people, do a bit more research, better the world with our knowledge, and you, as a little upstart, had to go and make us look ignorant. ‘Do you know what happened during Halloween?’ No, and I don’t bloody care. You have one chance, Hermione Jean, to make yourself useful, to bring some sort of honor to our family, and here you are, wasting it away with your little school for bloody magic. As if what you can do is more than a parlor trick.

“And don’t you dare start crying,” the woman vehemently snapped at the girl. “What do we say about crying? Having a little pity party? Whatever for? You have a roof over your head, food on the table, all the things you could ever ask for. You are damn lucky to be here, to have us to care for you? If not us, who would care, Hermione? Tell me. Tell me!”

“N-no one,” she choked back, trying her hardest not to shed tears.

“Exactly,” the woman continued to rave. “Because you are no one! You can’t even attend a proper school, instead going to that place for freaks. And you want to know why? Because you’re an ugly, little duckling. No one will love you, and no one will want you, especially in that world of abominations. I have half a mind to take you away from all of them. Either that or throw you to the wolves and see how you fare without me.”

Lucius watched the scene unfold with abject horror. He remembered spending the night at Severus’ house a child, suddenly realizing what drew him to the girl on the couch. Even his father, though strict and less than warm, at least respected him and showed pride on occasion. This, however, dug old memories out of the depths of his mind. For a time, he couldn’t bring himself to even move. 

“I do believe that is quite enough, Doctor Granger,” his cold voice announced as he took off the disillusionment charm. “Miss Granger, go up to your room and retrieve your things.” 

“Hermione, do not obey this strange man,” her mother shrieked. “You will do as I say.”

“Miss Granger, ignore her. I will have everything sorted by the time you come down,” he cooly dismissed the girl, eyeing the mother with great distaste.

Hermione nodded, rushing out of the room. She heard the cold hiss of Mr. Malfoy talking to her mother, unsure of what to do. She went about her room, threw everything she deemed important or necessary into her trunk, hoping to never see the place again. Though, a rational part of her brain told her, that she would have to come back at some point. It didn’t stop her from taking her fox plush or her favorite books. 

Fifteen minutes later, her trunk mostly packed for the morning pick up the next day, Hermione inched towards the living room door. She peered over and saw only Mr. Malfoy, bored expression upon his face as he examined the room and pictures. Never once did he see her smiling in a picture where her parents were. 

“Ah yes, ready Miss Granger?” he asked when he noticed the small girl peering around the door frame.

“Yes sir, I am,” she murmured, looking down at her feet. 

“Well then, have you ever apparated?” she shook her head before the blonde man continued, “You are to hold your trunk firmly, and take a hold of my arm. First, drink this potion. It will help reduce the less than savory effects of side-along apparation.”

She looked the proffered vial and knocked it back, a strange sense of unease still thrumming through her body. She didn’t feel safe here, and glanced around the corners as if someone were just waiting to jump out and pull her back. Lucius extended his arm for the young witch, which she took gratefully, before the unfamiliar pulling and stretching of apparation took hold. 

When they landed at the gates of a grand estate, Hermione felt herself wobble, the nausea momentarily making her vision swirl.

“And that’s better than normal?” She mumbled on swaying legs.

“It takes some getting used to, yes,” Lucius chuckled at the girl. “Twilly,” a crack sounded as a small creature appeared. “Take Miss Granger’s trunk to the guest room in the east wing down the hall from Draco’s suite.” 

“Yes, Master,” the strange, elfin creature smiled with a deep bow. “Excuse me Missy Granger.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Hermione released her trunk, mystified. With a pop, it disappeared with her trunk. “What is she? Or was that a he?”

“She,” Lucius addressed as he walked forward, ushering the girl in front of him, “Is a house elf. They are bound to a witch or wizard, either personally or to their family, and are tasked with whatever their master or mistress assign. They are servants if you will.”

“Do they get paid?” Hermione asked, pushing the horrific events of the night to the side as she tried to distract herself.

“It depends on who owns the elf,” the blonde man nodded as they walked towards the manor. He understood what the girl was doing, compartmentalizing the events and her thoughts until she could sort through them all in her own time. “We pay them in special treats and money they are allowed to spend on their own fabric to make their clothes. You see,” he continued at the sight of her bright, curious eyes.

“If you give a house elf clothes, they are considered free. Some elves want nothing more, but most are tied tightly to the family or person they serve. Their magic is stronger when bound, and their lives are longer. No one quite knows why. Some think they take some of the magic from their master or mistress to sustain themselves, and others believe the bond unlocks some parts of their magic that only the intense loyalty and need to serve can.”

Hermione listened to Lucius’ voice the whole of the walk to the prominent manor. She presumed it to be beautiful and impressive in the light, but couldn’t see more than a few lights on in a random assortment of windows. She supposed that she may see it again in the future. Her heart slowed down as her mind slowed down, allowing the elder Malfoy to lull her into a sense of a calm as the entered the house. 

“Father, did you get her? Is she okay? They didn’t do anything to her, did they?” Draco’s worried cries echoed through the foyer. 

“She is right here, Draco,” the man chuckled at his son. “And I am sure she heard all of that.”

“O-oh,” he blushed as he skidded to a halt on the marble floor. “H-hi. Are you okay?” 

“Can we hold off on the interrogation?” Hermione shuffled her feet. “I’m kinda tired and not in the mood. Not to mention, my feet are killing me.”

“I never understood how girls could wear shoes like that,” Draco shook his head in disbelief. “It looks like a form of torture.”

“What can I say?” Hermione smirked at the boy. “Beauty is pain.”

“Thank Merlin I’m not a girl,” he chuckled. 

“Just don’t tick me off, and you’ll never have to experience how much they can hurt,” she grinned even wider.

“She’s fine,” he deadpanned to his father, who stood watching them.

“And she is staying in the forest side guest room,” Lucius responded.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” she snickered. “Are you sure you don’t want to try out heels? I’m sure your Mum have some even higher than these. I mean, it’s not like they’re particularly high.”

“You’re lucky I like you, or I’d be threatening you right now,” Draco narrowed his eyes at the brunette.

“Ah yes, the benevolence of Draco Malfoy is absolutely legendary,” she rolled her eyes. “Kind enough to not to kill his friends. However would we live without such people in our world?”

“Does she have to stay down the hall from me?” He whined at his father.

“Well, Twilly kindly took my trunk to that room already,” she smiled her sweetest, most innocent smile. “It would be an awful shame to waste her hard work.”

“Yeah, yeah, come on, I’ll show you to your room,” he sighed. “And if you’re good, maybe I’ll show you the library.”

“You have a library?” she squealed, eyes bright with excitement.

“Yes,” the boy shook his head at his friend’s antics. “Like I said, maybe I’ll show it to you.”

“You don’t have to,” she hummed, happily following the boy. “I’m sure that Twilly or one of the other house elves would be happy to show it to me. If not, I’ll just ask your Mum. She likes me enough to not hold such a petty grudge as bickering against me.”

“You threatened me with heels,” he indignantly huffed. 

“And you threatened me with harm,” she smirked. “I think we’re quite even, don’t you?”

“Whatever, Hermione,” he shrugged.

“Now back to the library,” she interjected, excitement evident in her voice. “Is it anything like my imaginary Chateau de Livres?”

“How, in the name of Merlin, am I supposed to know?” he let out an exaggerated, exasperated sigh. 

“Oh, well, in that case, I’ll just tell you,” she grinned as the pair went through a hall and out of hearing distance.

“Dobby,” Lucius called with a shake of his head. 

“Yes, Master?” The house elf called.

“Please take these things to my room,” he said handing his cloak and hat to he elf before walking towards his suite.

He passed the library where the excited chattering of Hermione and the amused barbs of his son wafted out. Grey eyes rolled while an amused smirk played upon his face at their antics. (“Really, Draco, how can you not just sit here and read? There are so many rare books in your collection, and first editions, too!” “Merlin, woman, don’t drool on them!”) 

“I see that Hermione has made it safely here,” his wife smirked. “Rather, I hear Draco whining at her love of books.”

“They are quite amusing, I confess,” the man chuckled as he settled down on the sofa next to his wife.

They sat in companionable silence, listening to the children down the hall. Lucius couldn’t remember the last time the manor had been so loud. When Draco had his friends over, they typically were outside or in his suite, not out and about in the main part of the wing. Indeed, their playful banter made everything feel lighter. 

A light knock interrupted their musing, Lucius calling for them to enter. He saw the brown curls before the girl peaked around the door frame, mischief in her smirk.

“I was wondering, Mrs. Malfoy, if you have any heels I may borrow,” she grinned. “All, of course, for the good of all us girls.”

“Don’t listen to her mother,” Draco appeared behind her. “Whatever you do, do not resize heels for her. She’ll just force them on me!”

“As you can see, your son doesn’t quite understand what we women go through to be pretty,” the girl continued, sweet smile never leaving her face, though she shook with repressed laughter.

“Don’t do it, Mum, please,” the boy pleaded behind her.

“I think it is a bit late for that now, don’t you?” Narcissa answered, an amused grin on her face. “Though, I must say I agree with the premise. Perhaps when you have your own shoes worthy of making a man understand our beauty pains. By that time, I am sure he won’t even see it coming.”

“Of course, Mrs. Malfoy,” Hermione nodded solemnly, the smile never leaving her face. “What a wonderful idea.”

“Sweet Salazar, Mum, did you have to plant ideas into her head,” he whined.

“Dear, the idea was already there,” she chuckled. “Now then, off to bed with you two. I expect you awake early tomorrow morning for breakfast.”

The children nodded and bid the adults good night, both chattering on about something or the other. Hermione asked questions about the portraits and who they were, and their son answered where possible. Soon, their voices no longer floated through the halls, leaving the manor quiet once more.

“Be honest with me, how bad was it?” Narcissa asked, looking at her husband’s face.

“Horrible,” he sighed, suddenly aging several years in the blink of an eye. “I believe she would give your aunt a run for her galleons. Nasty piece of work.”

“That’s not all is it?” she murmured.

“Not by a mile, darling,” he sighed. “She threatened to pull her out of school and bind her magic or to simply disown and disinherit her. I hope to Merlin Severus will consider my proposition. She needs magical guardians.”

“Indeed, or a rather binding contract,” his wife mused aloud.

“Cissy, we promised we wouldn’t force him into anything,” Lucius sighed at his wife. “Not that it wasn’t the my first thought, especially with how they are, but I don’t want them to go through what your sister did. It is not worth it.”

“I know, I know,” she sighed. “If they were older, I would mention it to him. You know my beliefs and thoughts on that matter.”

“Yes, love, I do,” he chuckled. “And, might I say, I had my doubts. Recent events, however, have convinced me to see it your way.”

“As you always do, dear,” the blond woman smiled at her husband. “I am surprised how many years of marriage hasn’t taught you that I am always right?”

“Yes, Cissy,” he rolled his eyes before settling close for a quiet night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The parental conversation just came out of nowhere. I am writing this as Hermione being the recipient of mental and emotional abuse from her mother and negligence from her father. It is hard to read, for a reason. For those of you who have gone through this, you know that this is one of the ways it works itself out.
> 
> Abuse in this manner is much more nefarious, and I believe longer lasting. There is no starting point, no defining moment, nothing that stands out as odd or unnatural. You don’t notice when it starts, and before you know it, it’s part of your daily life. It is a constant stream of toxin that poisons you until you have no will of your own. It is death by a thousand papercuts. Each incident appears inconsequential and insubstantial, leaving you wondering how it started in the first place.
> 
> I want you guys to understand something: I am a victim of parental emotional and mental abuse from one two parents, and negligence from the other. It started when I was about 11 or 12 and has only progressed in the past 10+ years. Only recently have I removed myself from that situation. 
> 
> One of my greatest hopes for this fic is to portray a strong female lead who breaks from those bonds and expectations and finds her own happy ending. Maybe that is vicariously living through characters, but I want to give hope to others out there in any sort of abusive relationship. If our fictional characters can’t have a happy ending, who can? My stories will always have an ambiguously happy to full out ecstatic ending. // Thank you all for listening to my rant.


	10. The Holly and the Ivy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The holidays finally come, and Hermione is able to enjoy herself as she spends time with her friends out of school.

Light shone through the crisp winter air, illuminating thee otherwise dark room. Beams danced upon the eyes of a bush haired twelve year old girl, her face scrunched into a pout. She fought the morning’s call admirably until a small creature silently appeared in her room, poking the child.

“Miss? Missy Hermy?” the creature squeaked, watching the girl moan.

“No, not yet Daphne,” she murmured.

“Missy Hermy, Mistress wants you to wake up,” the elf tried once more.

Sheets were strewn as a loud gasp echoed through the room. Hermione sat straight up as if electrocuted, nerves on end. She knew better than to keep her mother waiting, but this wasn’t her room. The ceilings stood too tall, walls a calming evergreen, and a small, strange creature next to her.

“Mimsy is sorry, Missy Hermy,” the house elf babbled. “Mimsy didn’t mean to scare Missy. Mistress told Mimsy to wake Missy Hermy.”

“O-oh, I’m not scared,” Hermione said after a few blinks brought back memories of the previous night. “You are Mimsy, right?” The elf nodded. “Well, Mimsy, thank you waking me up. Please tell your mistress I’ll be there soon.”

“Mimsy will take you to breakfast when you’re ready, Missy Hermy,” the little elf smiled at her. “Just call for Mimsy,” and with a pop, the creature disappeared from Hermione’s room.

Within fifteen minutes, Hermione, dressed and ready, following the peppy little house elf, let her mind wander. After Draco took her to her room, Hermione allowed herself to cry. Tears fell down her face, her mind wandering around the harmful words her mother said the night before. Her emotions ran their course and exhausted the young girl, who promptly fell into a deep slumber.

The morning brought a new feeling of lightness from Hermione. Despite what her mother told her, there were others who cared for her. If the Malfoys, at the very least Draco, didn’t care for her, she would have still been at home. Those thoughts added with the knowledge that she was free until school brought a wide, bright smile to her face.

“Good morning Miss Granger,” a crisp baritone rung through air.

“Good morning Mister Malfoy,” she smiled at the blonde man. “Happy Christmas Eve.”

“I see you made it, Hermione,” the blonde woman on the other side of the table smiled at her. “How did you sleep, dear?” 

“Well, thank you,” Hermione smiled at Narcissa, taking the empty seat at the small table.

Looking around the bright breakfast parlor, the morning sun spilled in through the large windows. Light oak adorned the small, round table with matching chairs, plated in understated, white porcelain. matching white linens sat upon the table where the Malfoys sat. Lucius appeared at ease, perusing the morning Prophet while Narcissa poured tea for her drowsy son. Hermione knew that Draco despised mornings, and often enjoying bugging him over the meal at Hogwarts.

“Why, good morning Sunshine, wonderful day we’re having,” she smirked at the boy as she sat across from him.

“Too awake,” he glared at her over the newly poured cup of tea. “How are you so…” 

“Awake? Alive? Perky? Alert?” she beamed brightly at the boy, enjoying the return to her new normal.

“That,” he grunted, still eyeing her suspiciously.

“Oh, calm down, Draco,” she chided the boy. “Honestly, we can’t even use magic outside of school. It’s not like you have to watch out for your morning hex.” 

“Thank Merlin for that,” he muttered before returning to his breakfast, neither child noticing the raised brows of the adults.

Breakfast passed in a similar manner, light conversation and companionable silence. Hermione paused before exiting the room to find her own. Draco had left to find something or the other, leaving Mimsy to guide Hermione back to get ready for Annalie and the Southingtons. She chewed the bottom of her lip before determination flashed through her eyes.

“Excuse me Mister Malfoy, Mrs. Malfoy,” she said, observing the adults in the room with her. “I just wanted to say thank you. Thank you for caring enough to get me out of there.”

With a parting smile and curtsey, the young girl left the room, following a bouncing house elf, who’s excited voice echoed down the hall. The woman stared at the doorframe the young witch left through, deep in thought. She noticed the sadness in her husband’s eyes, pain reminiscent of when he spoke of his friend within their depths. 

“Cissa, you know what Severus taught you,” he stated quietly, reclining in the chair after a moment. “And I know your penchant for mind magic, my love.”

“Tell me when you’re ready, darling,” his wife sighed.

Narcissa Malfoy, much to the surprise of many, knew much of magic. While now a society wife, she honed her own skills and many a smart wizard feared her. Very few, though, knew the extent of her abilities. During the first war, she and her husband found that the only way to protect their sanity was to protect their minds.

A small nod and with a whispered word, she saw the memory and thought of her husband. Horror and disgust filled the woman, noticing the shades of her own childhood. As she pulled out of her husband’s mind, the handkerchief in her hand the only indication of the tears in her eyes, Narcissa composed herself.

“I see,” she murmured quietly, gripping her husband’s hand across the table. “I do believe I can talk to Severus. You said her mother visits once a week? Half three on Saturdays?”

“Cissa dear, I know a plan when I see one,” Lucius raised an eyebrow. 

“Let’s say I am far too fond of the girl to allow her to live in such conditions. I am simply taking matters into my own hands,” she smiled weakly.

“Should I warn her parents of your pending revenge,” Lucius smirked, a humorous light returning to his eyes.

“Darling, that is absolutely diabolical, but I do believe I have something even better,” she smirked in return. 

——————————————

“Are you sure you have everything?” Narcissa Malfoy asked for the tenth time, an amused Annalie and an annoyed Draco stood off to the side.

Honey eyes glanced around quickly to assess the situation. Draco had tried, and failed, to convince her to stay there rest of the holiday at the manor. When she pointed out that she had previous engagements that would be rude to miss, he pouted. She reminded him that she would see him quite a bit over the next few weeks anyways, between staying at Annalie’s and the offer his mother made to have several of them and then take them to the train. 

That seemed to appease him. Until, that is, his mother worried over Hermione’s departure.

“Mum,” he whined. “I think she’s got everything. It’s not like you’re never seeing her again.”

“Oh? I didn’t realize you were so eager for her to leave, Draco,” she remarked at her blushing son.

“I-I never said that,” he muttered, glancing between all the amused females in the room.

“It’s okay, Mrs. Malfoy,” Hermione smiled at the woman, taking pity on her friend. “It’s not like we won’t be seeing each other throughout the rest of the holidays. Just in case, I gave Mimsy my gifts for everyone. I hope you all enjoy them, and I’m sure we’ll see you at yule supper tomorrow evening.”

Narcissa caught the thankful glance and playful wink between the two children, amused at their antics. She watched as they parted ways with a bashful, awkward smile and wave before the girl left in a flood of green flames. Blue eyes watched her son walk away from the room with a small frown before whatever occupied eleven year old boys took over his mind.

——————————————

Annalie hugged the small girl close as she heard the story her protege spun. In the dead of night, her mother received a patronus of a cobra, Lucius Malfoy’s voice echoing around the sitting room the family gathered in after supper. While the message concise message played through the room, Annalie watched her parents.

Her father tensed, instantly on the defensive, listening for any small clue. On the settee next to her, Annalie noticed her mother place a hand on her own, watching her husband send a message back. She knew something bad happened, most likely involving her apprentice’s parents. While they never broached the subject formally, Melinda told her about their Saturday evenings. She could only conclude that Hermione’s visits to Snape’s office were less than pleasing. 

However, the blonde fifth year couldn’t imagine where those events would lead towards. Now, on Christmas Eve, mere hours from the annual dinner for the family, she sat in their library. While the estate did not contain the volumes, or the size, of Malfoy Manor, Annalie knew the books and cushy chairs in front of the roaring fire would calm the young Slytherin. 

“Hermione, you’re going to have to tell me what is wrong,” she gently reminded the young girl. While neither to talk in front of the adults, it appeared the elder Malfoys explains the basic events of the previous evening. “I heard Mister Malfoy talking to my parents while you were settling in. I think it’s time we talked about this and form a plan.”

“A plan? To deal with my mother?” Hermione sniffled. “How would that even work? S-she threatened me. Said she’d take away my magic or-or throw me out.”

“Perhaps the second option is preferable,” Annalie mused, rubbing soothing circles on the girl’s back. “I’ve said this before. Slytherins take care of their own. I’m sure there are people already working on how best to deal with your parents. While we may not all accept your blood, we take an insult to a fellow Slytherin seriously.”

“I-I know,” she murmured. “I just didn’t know what to do. She made it sound like no one would really like me and that I was worthless and never amount to anything. Did you know she is making me take muggle classes?”

“Merlin and Morgana, Hermione, why didn’t you tell anyone?” Annalie gasped, suddenly placing the odd behavior and study hours.

“I didn’t think it would matter,” the girl whispered, tucking herself against her mentor. Normally, such affection did not happen, but this subject made her feel like a small child. “As you said, no one would really understand. I’m the only muggle-born, so they wouldn’t get that my mother thinks magic is just a waste of time.”

“Oh, Hermione, we could have always done something about it,” she murmured. “I know that not everyone would understand what is happening, but we could at least try to help. There are people who care for you.”

“I-I,” the brunette girl sniffled before crying hard, gripping the witch at her side. 

Hands ran over her back and hair, shushing the first year. The Southingtons had three children, two boys and their baby girl. For her whole life, Annalie wished she could have had a little sister. She never expected this year to deliver a bushy-haired muggle-born into her life. Nor could the blonde fifth year understand how they became so close. This girl became the baby sister she never had, and Annalie vowed to protect the girl.

From the corner of her hazel eyes, Annalie saw her mother peak into the library, a soft smile on her face as she watched the two students. She closed the door, a tray of hot chocolate and heard the two girls talk to each other. The plan Narcissa murmured about began to make sense. She met the charming, young witch, but never understood how people began to align themselves in school with the girl. Now, she understood why.

“Sh-she threatened to go to the Ministry and bind my magic and take away my magic if I refused the correspondence courses, and said she’d do it if I didn’t get the highest marks,” Hermione mumbled as her daughter wiped away the tears.

“We’ll look into it, but I’m pretty sure that muggles cannot actually go through with it,” Annalie murmured. “Even if they could, I’m sure that the Malfoys are preparing for it. They are the prototypical Slytherins, and have taken quite the liking to you. Now then, no more tears. We have some decorating to do. I hope you like hanging holly and ivy.”

Having successfully calmed the younger girl, the pair stood up and made their way out of the library. Spirits cheered, they walked around the house, laughing and talking. Even the boys, Matius and Edric, took a shining to the young Slytherin. Together, the house filled with laughter as all woes were lost to the holiday spirit.

The evening wrapped up with a pleasant supper, small and familiar. Hermione worried about the gifts she sent. Annalie told her not to worry, that magic had a way to finding you. So, she went to sleep in her room, next to Annalie’s, and dreamed of sweets and a loving family. Morning dawned, and, to Hermione’s surprise, gifts littered the skirt under the large tree.

“Happy Christmas, little snake,” Annalie smiled at the girl. 

“Happy Christmas, Annalie,” she replied, sitting on the couch and waiting for everyone else to awaken.

When the whole family gathered in the sitting room, gifts were distributed. During her shopping trip with Mrs. Hill, Hermione purchased her friends gifts. She knew most of them have never even been part of the muggle world, let alone been shopping there, and so she seized the opportunity to buy things. While Annalie had told her to avoid giving jewelry or anything of actual ‘value,’ no matter how cheap, Hermione bought candies and trinkets.

She found herself glad. While not spending money on anyone who she didn’t know, Hermione tended towards being very generous to those in her inner circle of friends. While her parents received ‘nice’ gifts by virtue of giving birth to her, her friends were another story. For Vince, Greg, and Theo, she bought candies and comics, hoping to amuse them. Pansy and Daphne received muggle fashion magazines. Millie got one half of a ‘best friend’ bracelet, Hermione keeping the other half. 

Perhaps the hardest gift of all was for Draco. While she couldn’t get him anything expensive for fear of irrevocably going through with a pureblood tradition, she decided upon an emerald scarf of cashmere. She felt that the silver embroider monogram added a personal touch, and hoped he would like it. 

“And it looks like your little friends got you things, too, snakelette,” Edric smiled as he passed brightly wrapped gifts to her.

“Good, I won’t feel so awkward when they get gifts and I received none,” the girl laughed. 

Within half an hour, all the gifts relieved of their wrappings, Hermione found quite the cache. The boys all gave her candies with small trinkets. Chocolate frogs from Vince, Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans from Greg, and Theo won the sugary battle with sugar quills. Pansy and Daphne coordinated their presents, giving her a matching set of gloves and a scarf. Millie decided on a new book she had salivated over when Professor McGonagall mentioned it. 

The Southingtons gave her a plethora of small gifts. Sweets, typical wizarding toys, and an enchanted compact comprised her presents. Annalie bought her a potions text she found, hoping that her protege would enjoy it. Even the elder Malfoys bought her a few gifts, a beautiful quill and ink pot of never ending Slytherin green, with a set of stationary all in a unbreakable case.

“I’m sure he just wants to give it to you in person,” Annalie smiled at her crestfallen apprentice. 

“I-I don’t know what you mean,” Hermione fought to keep the blush off her cheeks. 

“Of course you don’t,” the blonde girl smirked. “Why don’t you put your things in your room? Everyone will be by for the luncheon in a few hours. I know how you like to peruse your new books.”

“Thank you, Annalie,” the first year beamed at her mentor before standing up and hugging the girl and skipping out of the room.

“Annalie, I want you to keep the students in the south ball room. Your father and I will be speaking to the Malfoys in your father’s study when they arrive,” her father addressed the teen after the brunette left the room. “We have some things to discuss.”

“Of course, Dad,” she smiled, easily divining the reason behind the meeting.

“Also, if I may not trouble you to ask, what is Hermione’s relationship with the Malfoy heir like?” her mother asked and watched the mischievous smirk on her daughter’s face.

“Well, you see,” the blonde girl began.

——————————————

“Hermione,” the excited squeal of Millie came out of nowhere. A moment later, the brunette valiantly kept her balance as a body slammed into her. “I loved your gift, thank you.”

“Happy Christmas to you, too, Millie,” Hermione laughed at hugged the girl. “Do you want to see the best part?” In response to the eager nod, Hermione held up her wrist, matching the pendants to a mystified Millie.

“Now I feel bad about my gift,” the other girl laughed as they linked arms and walked through the party.

“Don’t,” the brunette laughed. “It’s a common muggle thing. These aren’t cheap, but aren’t the most expensive either. Just a way to show my appreciation. It looks like the whole house is here.”

“That’s because they are,” Millie giggled as they swirled through the crowd. “It’s like the luncheon. Every year, a different House family hosts the Yule supper. In fact, you get to meet the newest member of Slytherin!”

“Is it the Blaise character you guys were talking about on the train?” Hermione arched her brow, a grin on her face.

“Of course you would remember,” her friend chuckled. “You’re going to like him, I promise.”

“I will hold you to it,” Hermione laughed before they found their little group of first years.

“Happy Christmas, Hermione,” Theo chirped when she saw them. “This is our friend, Blaise Zabini.” He motioned to a boy with tan skin, blue eyes, and wavy, black hair. Italian, if Hermione speculated correctly. “Blaise, this is Hermione Granger, Slytherin’s resident muggle-born and top of our year.”

“Enchanted, Hermione,” the boy smiled at her, oozing charm. “I have heard a lot about you. Something about planning a few good pranks?”

“If by ‘planning’ you mean ‘hexing these boys into behaving,’ then yes,” she grinned at the affable Italian.

The group of first years talked and greeted others as they came by. Even Anthony came and wished them each a happy Christmas, handing each a small Slytherin bookmark enchanted with a silver moving snake. Parents milled about, greeting the students, who moved around the room, sugar fueling their laughter and subtle pranks. 

However, a blonde someone appeared to be missing from the group. None of them could find Draco, nor the adult Malfoys, agreeing that when they came, Draco would come to them. Instead of worrying, they enjoyed the gathering. Unknown to the rest of the group, said family sat in the private study, Severus Snape joining them.

“Are you sure, Severus?” Lucius asked, brow furrowed.

“Yes, and I am sure your son would know most of this,” the potions master arched a brow at the boy sitting quietly amongst them. “Although, I know that Miss Granger rarely spoke of her other school work, so perhaps he would know of this particular threat.”

“Draco, why don’t you tell us what you have learned,” his mother gently encouraged the boy to speak.

“Nothing new, at least I don’t think so,” the boy responded, grey eyes suspicious and calculating. 

While he trusted all the adults in this room, he didn’t feel comfortable betraying Hermione’s trust in him. He knew that she rarely spoke of her parents with anyone, and that he earned every scrap of information he heard. It just didn’t feel right to tell the adults that, and, anyways, Snape would know most of it.

“While we know what her mother says and how both act during their meetings,” Snape said, easily guessing his godson’s thoughts, “None of us know exactly what Hermione thinks of this. We will call Miss Southington later to speak to her, but you are one of her best friends.”

“If you put it that way,” he sighed, warmth and feeling filling his chest at the distinction, “She is afraid of losing her magic, I guess. That this is all a dream and it will go away. It’s why she puts up with her mum, because she has total control over her life.”

A tense silence fell over the room, the words sinking into their minds. Each thought of different ways to help he muggle born girl from a fate that sounded quite likely. Lucius pursed his lips, thoughtful expression adorning his face as he watched his only son. 

“Do you think she will be safe?” Narcissa asked, her eyes upon the boy as well.

“Honestly?” Draco gulped, fingering the small box in his pocket. “I think that her mother is not going to let her stay. Not unless she absolutely has to, and I think Hermione knows. That’s why she’s working so hard, both in the muggle schooling and with Annalie’s lessons. She’s trying to stay as long as she can.”

“Would you be willing to help her stay, Draco?” his father asked, eyes intense as they studied the boy.

“She’s one of my best friends,” he frowned. “Of course I would. Anything.”

“Anything?” Snape echoed, dark eyes concentrating on the boy. 

At that moment, Draco knew something big was going to happen. Maybe not today or tomorrow, maybe not for a few years, but, as young and naive as he sat at eleven, Draco knew this moment would change his life. Would he do absolutely anything to keep Hermione in the magical world? In his life? 

The abstract ideas escaped the boy, but he had seen and heard enough about the vile woman to know that, no matter what would happen, he wanted to help his brunette friend. A strange feeling always overcame him whenever he saw her puffy eyes after their meetings, or when she smiled. He knew there wasn’t really a choice, not anymore, not for him. Besides, if a Slytherin can’t be loyal to their own, who can they rely on?

“Yes, sir,” he replied, solemn and quiet after a few moments, “Anything.”

He felt the eyes of all five adults upon him, but kept his silver pair upon the man who questioned him. The boy resisted the urge to squirm under such scrutiny, but his parents always taught him not to show weakness or indecision, especially when a choice is made. He had to be decisive, especially if it meant saving Hermione.

“Very well, Draco,” his father nodded after he found whatever he was looking for. “Why don’t you go to the party and find Miss Granger? I am sure she will be more than happy to open whatever gift you decided to give her. You also need to thank her for your scarf.”

He nodded with a slight blush, fingering the soft material around his neck. His mother had cooed when she saw him open the box this morning. Hermione gave the elder Malfoys beautiful quills and a thank you letter for her stay, both were touched of course. He secretly dreaded receiving a book or something else silly, but was pleasantly surprised when he found the scarf. Muggle made, she wrote, hoping he enjoyed it either way, and he did.

“Of course, Father,” Draco nodded. “Do you need anything else?”

“Tell Annalie to continue her task, would you, young Mister Malfoy?” Mrs. Southington asked the young blonde.

“I will, ma’am,” he nodded at the woman, having gained respect for her. 

“That will be all, Draco. Make sure to close the door on the way out,” his mother smiled and hugged him before he ran off towards the party.

A soft click went though the room as the first year left the study, leaving a group of pensive adults. The parents of the boy looked at each other, a silent conversation going through the as the others looked in different places. Perhaps the most surprising aspect was the fact that the eleven year old boy, prone to immaturity and arrogance, understood the importance of the moment.

“Hopefully, it will not fall to the need to take him up on the offer,” Natalia Southington mused, still watching the door to the study. “Though, Annalie does paint the interesting story.”

“They do get along quite well,” Narcissa nodded at the woman. “However, we don’t want to take away either of their choices. Not like that horrid woman.”

“And she never intended to allow her to stay in this world,” the other woman nodded. “How monstrous.” 

“She is a piece of work,” Snape commented. “From our weekly meetings, everything she has done is to tear Miss Granger to pieces and remain the only one with the ability to put it together.” 

“Which brings me to a plan I suggested to Severus some time ago,” Lucius remarked, steepling his fingers. “There are two ways that we can ensure her permanent residency in the magical world. The first of which, of course, is a magical marriage contract leading to a binding ceremony. As Narcissa said, we do not want to force Draco into anything of the nature.

“The second would be magical adoption, and declaring two people as her magical guardians,” the man continued. “While seen as archaic to some, a child can have separate legal guardians or parents for the muggle government and for the magical community. From my contacts in the ministry, what happens with muggle-borns is that they lack any legal representation within the Ministry, as we do not official recognize their muggle parents as part of the wizarding world. 

“Therefore, all legal decisions and representations for underaged muggle-borns is made through Hogwarts. However, it is possible that said child is able to acquire magical guardians. The problem with having that done on paper is twofold,” Lucius explained, gazing at each person in the room. 

“First, when the child is seventeen, the protection of said guardians ends, which would not be a problem if it were not for the fact that the age of majority in the muggle world is eighteen. The second problem is that such guardians must be approved by the headmaster or headmistress of Hogwarts, which means we must choose guardians that Dumbledore would accept,” Lucius sighed. “Which disqualifies much of our social circle.”

“And yet, here we are,” Mr. Southington remarked, shrewd eyes watching the blonde man. “You are known for your ability to plan for all eventualities, Lucius. What is your real plan?”

“My real plan, as you put it,” the blonde man smirked, “Is to perform a questionable ritual to have Miss Granger adopted by two magical, suitably neutral and acceptable, guardians.”

“You want to do a blood adoption,” Natalie breathed, understanding the implications of such a move. “Do you believe Dumbledore would go for it, Lucius?”

“It’s been almost a century since the last was done,” Perseus Southington murmured. “I have no doubt you have books on the subject, and we probably have several volumes that most likely have it.”

“I have spoken of the idea with Albus, myself,” Severus stated, watching the Southingtons. “He is not quite as pure and light as he makes himself. He is known to dabble into the darker grey areas when it suits him. I have began to convince him that this may be a necessary concession.” 

“Blood wards? The ministry have deemed them dark magic,” Natalia frowned at the thought.

“Yet he uses them for his own purpose,” the potions master dryly retorted. “Yes, this is something that is labeled dark magic, but could be of use.”

“Neutrality, though,” Perseus murmured. “That truly casts almost all of us out as potential adoptees. Not that it stopped your plans, I’m sure, Lucius.”

“I can’t say that it has,” the blonde man smirked once more.

“Of course not,” the other man sniggered.

“Let’s say that we have the father volunteered,” Lucius stated. “Narcissa has quite the plan to convince the best potential mother.”

“And how can we help?” Natalie interjected. “We are neutral when it comes to politics, have been that way since before the war.”

“Which is key, Natalie,” the blonde woman nodded. “While we can have Hermione over for periods of time, it would be most improper for her to spend the whole of every holiday with us. She needs a surrogate family, one that will not draw political attention when the time comes, a family that cares for her.”

“And why not her adopted parents?” Perseus inquired, knowing that the Malfoys would have an answer to everything. “It would make sense to have a proper family adopt her, keep her, and therefore, allow her protection.”

“The idea is to have as many safe places for Hermione as possible, Perseus,” Narcissa answered, amused that, after a day, the Southingtons appeared interested. “We believe professors that Dumbledore trusts would make the best adoptees of Hermione, making them appear neutral. 

“As a pureblood family, if another war were to break out, you would be pressured into picking a side. We do not want to jeopardize your family for taking in a muggle-born witch. Many of your connections and associates would drop your family and business, and that is not an appropriate risk to take,” the blonde woman finished, meeting the intense gaze of the man in front of her.

“Well thought out, as to be expected,” he gave a small smile. “As, I presume, are the your choices for her magical parents.”

“Would she change her last name to that of her magical parents?” Natalia asked, leaning back into the chair once more. 

“No, she would not, at least, not to the outside world,” Severus answered, surprising the Southingtons, having forgotten the dark wizard. “On all Ministry papers, her last name would be that of her adopted father, as it would appear she had always been part of his family. She would be named his heir, and would be set to inherent the estate. The idea of this particular blood bond is to make her a biological part of both parties, hence she would technically have four biological parents.”

“A paternity test would confirm her as the legitimate child of all four,” Natalie murmured. “How confusing, and yet the Ministry prioritizes the magical parents above the muggle set, allowing her full protection from her mother’s control. How clever, Lucius.” 

“I am a Slytherin,” was the cocky reply.

“And I assume you have a plan, Narcissa,” the woman continued. “One that should convince someone to become her magical mother.” 

“My dear, Natalia, why else would I agree and help if the scheme were not complete?” the blonde woman smirked. 

“Then, you want us to take her during the holidays, rescue her from her muggle home?” Perseus mused aloud. “Take her into our family, teach her how to be a proper pureblood woman, I take it. Annalie already tutors and mentors her in the house, so our family would be a natural fit.” 

“Exactly,” Lucius nodded. “You understand why we asked for the oaths before, I hope.”

“Yes, I do,” the host sighed. “The peace is tenuous at best, and the climate of our world is not one that she is readily accepted. If the worst were to happen, a muggle-born with no allies is dead. She is intelligent and clever, would be a shame to lose her.” 

“My thoughts exactly,” the blonde man nodded. 

Of course, two facts remained unspoken. The first of which was who would be the father. The less said, and the more implied, kept it a careful secret; one never knew when a portrait would overhear an important secret and go blabbing about it. Not that any of the adults were under any illusions about who would fill said void. 

The second fact Lucius purposefully left out of the conversation hummed in the air. They each knew their families would be too interconnected to make a good match between them. Natalie and Narcissa were second cousins, and the Malfoys hoped for a different connection with Hermione. Indeed, Lucius thought it likely that, if he had asked, they could very well be on their way to it. When Draco consulted his father for an appropriate gift, Lucius discerned his son’s feelings on the matter, quite easily in fact. He suspected that time only needed to pass before he could truly advise his son on such front.

——————————————

After watching Blaise and Vince become human pinballs due to sugar, and laughing at the disgruntled, annoyed, and vexed upperclassmen, the group of first years began to talk to the house elves. Hermione, who appeared to have an affinity for the small creatures, had wrangled a few on her quest to ‘bring more yuletide spirit into the party.’ 

Soon, their merry group of eleven and twelve year olds were skipping around caroling. Hermione hummed along to the wizarding songs, recognizing different melodies and songs. While many were different from traditional muggle songs, she enjoyed it all the same.

“Hermione, you have such a pretty voice,” Daphne squealed, holding the brunette’s hands in her own. “You should sing some muggle songs for us. We’ll teach you wizarding ones later, but for right now.”

“O-oh, well, I’m not sure,” she blushed brightly, not used to performing in front of others.

“Where is your yuletide spirit, ‘Mione,” Vince grinned at her, receiving a dirty glance.

“What are you lot doing?” the unmistakable voice of Draco came from behind Hermione. 

“Spreading yuletide spirit with carols,” Millie grinned, mischievous gleam in her eyes. “In fact, we just asked Hermione here if she would sing for us a muggle carol. She has such a lovely voice, Draco. I’m sure you’d want to hear it.”

“Don’t listen to them,” Hermione said, spinning to see the blonde boy in question. “I-I don’t sing that well, really.” 

“She has the voice of an angel,” Daphne sighed with a dreamy expression.

“It’s not that great,” Pansy muttered.

Hermione would have agreed whole heartedly with the black haired witch if she were not distracted. Draco stood in his normal, tailored dress robes, just like the other boys. Even if they looked more expense, the material didn’t catch her attention. No, green scarf wrapped around his neck and tucked into the front of his robes made the color rise to her cheeks. He wore her scarf. She found herself embarrassed and pleased and something else. A warm feeling coiled around her stomach and she found herself shyly mumbling something along the lines of ‘no I’m not.’

“Well, come on then, Hermione, sing something for us,” Draco remarked, oblivious to the flush on her cheeks and the jealous glances of Blaise and Pansy. 

“I-I’m fine, really,” Hermione persisted with a gulp.

“You can close your eyes if you’d like,” Millie suggested, nudging the brunette witch in the back, which, consequently, made Hermione jump closer to her blonde classmate. 

“W-well, you see, there was one, um, maybe,” Hermione stumbled, unusually tongue-tied. 

“Do I need to cover your eyes for you, Hermione?” Draco rolled his own with an amused sigh.

“No, that’s okay, really,” Hermione gulped, quickly going through the catalogue of carols. “This one is called the Holly and the Ivy. There are a lot of verses, and it repeats a ton, so I’m only going to sing a couple so you lot get the idea.”

A semicircle of intrigued first years surrounded a blushing, embarrassed Hermione. She didn’t know what contributed the most to her predicament; the fact that she began to sing to them or that her friend wore her gift. Instead, she concentrated on singing the song, trying to remember what her childhood voice teacher told her. She began soft and unsure, before slowly gaining momentum and volume, letting the song roll through her and hoping she remained on pitch, not changing keys too much.

When she finished, more than a few of the surrounding students and parents applauded her effort, the Malfoys and Southingtons among them. Even Professor Snape watched her with a less than critical gaze. A blushing curtsey later, and the crowd around her began to dissipate, though Narcissa took that moment to comment on her singing.

Shy glances through her eye lashes revealed her year mates impressed expressions. Even Pansy had to admit she could sing. Draco stared at her in wonder, and Theo beamed in delight. Millie appeared smug and far too pleased with herself, which immediately aroused Hermione’s suspicion against her friend. 

“W-well then,” Hermione stuttered, unused to the attention for something other than her academics. “Who wants to prank the upper years?”

That broke the silent reverie. Each were grinning like loons, discussing their plans, leaving Hermione to slip to the back, breathing a sigh of relief. She didn’t mind singing in front of others, but always feared the criticism. She felt lucky no one bothered to tell her anything other than ‘you sang well,’ and left it at that. A tap on her shoulder made her nearly jump out of her skin.

“Merlin, Draco, you scared me,” Hermione grasped her heart, trying to slow down her breathing.

“I’m sorry,” he smirked at her, not at all apologetic. “Well, I wanted to thank you for the scarf. It’s brilliant really.”

“I’m glad you liked it, even if it’s muggle made,” Hermione smiled, shy and unsure of herself once more. “It reminded me of you.”

“Well, I love it, thanks,” he warmly beamed at the blushing brunette. He looked at his friend, a sudden shyness overtaking him as well. “I also wanted to give you this,” he trusted a rectangular wrapped parcel into Hermione’s hands. “I-I forgot to send it, and I felt bloody stupid this morning considering you were just over at the manor, and I forgot to give it to you then, too. I didn’t want you to think I forgot about you this yule, s-so, there. Happy Christmas, Hermione.”

An answering, bashful smile found it’s way onto Hermione’s countenance, listening to her normally composed, regal to the point of arrogance, friend appear so vulnerable and unsure of himself. She untied the silver cloth bow, stashing it in her pocket for later, _perhaps I’ll use it to tie up my hair_ , before tearing the paper. In an ornate, wooden box was a set of three marvelous quills.

“They’re macaw quills,” Draco continued as he watched Hermione’s eyes light up. “A blue, red, and green macaw. They have a gripping charm and an unbreakable charm, and the box has an anti-theft charm, too, so no one can remove the box or quills. I-I thought, you write all the time and study a lot, so it’d be nice to have a good set of quills.”

Before he could continue, Hermione drew him into a tight hug. What she didn’t see was the bright blush on his cheeks as he tentatively returned the gesture, nor the smile on several adult faces. Instead, she felt her chest lighten considerably, happy that her best friend did not forget her as she previously thought.

“Thank you so, so, so much Draco,” she squealed after pulling away and examining the quills once more. “They’re perfect!”

“R-right, your welcome,” he stuttered, still bright pink from the tight hug. He hadn’t expected _that._ “Now, what was that about pranks?”

“I have the perfect one,” Hermione slyly grinned at her friend, closing the box with care. “Do you mind if I call for one of your elves?”

“Go right ahead,” Draco gestured, finally returning to normal and beside himself with curiosity. 

“Mimsy,” Hermione called the small creature to her side. 

“Yes, Missy Hermy?” the elf bowed deeply, to Draco’s surprise. “Hows can I help Missy Hermy?”

“Can you get some mistletoe? Enchanted if you would be able? And then hang them over the couples I tell you?” Hermione asked, mischief dancing in her eyes. 

Next to her, Draco’s eyes widened for a moment before he felt a grin appearing on his face. The girl was a genius, not just at school, but in her pranks as well. Everyone expected enchanted mistletoe during yule, so no one would be on the look out for someone placing it deliberately. In a pureblood party, house elves were expected and not noticed, making one an excellent camouflage. 

“Excellent, now then, which couples do you think?” Hermione asked. “I’m thinking of placing one over Annalie and Jeremy. They have been making gooey eyes at each other this whole time, and are almost always talking to each other…”

And so the rest of the party swept by, to the satisfaction of all. After successfully getting ten couples to kiss, Draco and Hermione sniggering as each went through predictable, if not amusing, stages of duress and acceptance. Their actions did not go unnoticed, the parents chuckling at their antics and their year mates none the wiser for their actions. 

By the time Hermione said goodbye to her friends, hugging most goodbye, and giving an awkward, shy farewell to her favorite blonde, she found herself satisfied with the day. 

Hermione confidently declared it the best Christmas she ever had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, so I’ve talked about this on occasion with those of you who leave comments (love you guys!), but I typically write and read late teen or adult fiction. I’ve always been a mature person, even as a child, and had an advanced vocabulary since I was young. Writing kid dialogue is difficult. Hell, even the my brothers (10+ years my juniors) have decent vocabularies (this may be due to one of them having a near photographic or eidetic memory. His idea of fun is making flashcards on the fad of the time and quizzing you -quick, name all the moons of Saturn!). It’s hard for me to write the kids without making them sound cheesy or too adult, hence why I have so many interludes and conversations with the older characters. This very well may wane during the course of the story as the characters age
> 
> Also, time to introduce Blaise! His personality is going to be fun, flirty, and playful. Quiet to those outside of Slytherin, but quite the charmer when he wants to be. I enjoy most fanfic portrayals of him, as he seems laid back and fun.


	11. A New Mystery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back in school, Hermione and Draco over hears the most interesting thing.

The rest of the holiday flew by quickly. With one blink, Hermione sat and read in the Southington Estate, learning more about politics and etiquette with Annalie and her mother. The next time her eyes opened, she stood in the opulent grand ballroom of Malfoy Manor, dancing and learning traditional wizarding dances with all her friends. So what if she felt warmer or her heart beat harder when Draco took her across the floor? It didn’t mean anything, she tried to convince herself. They were just friends right now.

With the next blink, she ran around the spacious grounds at the Bulstrode Mansion, Daphne and Pansy joining Millie and Hermione. They made snow angels, gossiped, and giggled at all the magazines that Hermione brought. Daphne drafted up grand ball gowns for each of them, while Millie and Pansy taught Hermione traditional songs for those ‘engagements.’ 

Before she could comprehend the best holiday ever, Hermione sat within the first year Slytherin compartment between Millie and Daphne, laughing while Draco, Vince, and Greg went to bug some Gryffindors, most likely Potter, Weasley, and Patil. 

“Seriously, Pans, why don’t you guys play this game more often?” Hermione chuckled as Theo got caught in a blast. “I mean, Theo, here, is able to wear no eyebrows and explosive remains quite beautifully.”

“Thanks, Hermione,” Theo dryly remarked as laughter rolled through the compartment.

“Only for you, Theo,” she winked, to which more sniggering answered.

“Don’t be saying that in front of Draco,” the brunette boy smirked at her.

“Why ever not?” Hermione raised an eyebrow.

“You’ll figure it out one day,” Theo’s grin widened.

“It’s not like I belong to anyone, Nott,” she rolled her eyes before going back to reading her book as everyone began to talk together once more.

“Yet, Hermione,” Blaise smirked at the brunette girl. “Then again, I suppose it’s more likely that you’d do the owning.”

“And don’t you forget it,” she stuck her tongue out.

“What are we not forgetting?” Draco asked as he slipped into the cabin.

“That Hermione will wear the pants in the relationship,” Daphne chirped.

Everyone laughed, though the Italian noticed pink on certain cheeks. In the little time he knew the muggleborn, he noticed quite a bit. He enjoyed spending time with her, and Blaise wasn’t the only one. As they entered the castle, he noticed how his year mates walked, with Draco and Hermione in front. Nothing like that happened by accident, and Theo’s slip on the train only confirmed his thoughts. Their ‘usual’ seats at the Slytherin table amused Blaise to no end, especially when he received a dirty glare from the blonde when he tried to sit next to Hermione. _This is going to be interesting,_ he mused.

“Remember the meeting, firsties,” Anthony called out as the gaggle left the hall, overstuffed and sleepy.

“Meeting?” Blaise asked. 

“Yeah, forgot to mention,” Draco remarked, “We have meetings before and after holidays in the House common room.”

“The first one was kinda intense,” Theo added. “Looking back, we were being stupid. The Hat knew what it was doing.”

“What happened?” the Italian raised a black brow.

“Well, when ‘Mione first got sorted into Slytherin, most of us hated her guts, being a muggle-born and all,” Greg shrugged from the side. “Not that it lasted long for most of us. She pranked us as good as we gave, and she impressed our families at the luncheon.”

“I feel bad about suggesting kicking her out of the house,” Theo mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck.

“You what?” Blaise’s eyes widened.

“It wasn’t as bad as some,” the brunette defended himself. “I swear, some people were calling for her head, and, if memory serves, a certain someone wanted a certain greasy haired professor to get her expelled.”

“Shut up,” said blonde grumbled, only to find the girl in question no where in sight. “Where’s Hermione, anyway?”

——————————————

“Remind me why we are following Potter?” Millie whispered, crouching behind Hermione.

“I told you, Neville gave me a tip off in the train,” the brunette hushed. “He heard Potter talk about some sort of mirror, and he wants me to help.”

“Which brings me back to my original point,” Millie sighed, “Why are we here again? They’re just going up to their tower.”

“I suppose you’re right, and we have the meeting in a bit, Might as well go,” Hermione sighed just as Potter and Weasley appeared along the corridor.

“Oi! What are you lot doing here?” The ginger shouted down the hall.

“Looking for Neville,” Hermione improvised, “He couldn’t find Trevor and asked me to look around the dungeons. I just wanted to report back.”

“Sure that’s what you want, muggle,” Ron sneered.

“Why don’t you tell us, and we’ll relay the message,” Harry asked, hoping to avoid a conflict.

“Tell him I didn’t find Trevor, but I haven’t been in our common room yet, either,” Hermione waved. “And please, don’t mind me.” 

“That’s right, you slimy Slytherin,” the weasel called after the girls, “Go away! We don’t want your kind here!”

“He’s a right git, isn’t he?” Millie muttered.

“Ron, calm down. I’ll show you the mirror later tonight, just, don’t make a scene,” Harry whispered to his friend, unaware of the echoing.

“You said it showed you your family?” Ron murmured, distracted at once.

“Yeah, and you can see them, too,” Harry beamed, pulling his friend back to their tower.

“Erised? What a weird name,” Ron muttered as he followed his friend once more.

“Did he say a mirror?” Millie stood behind the corner they didn’t move beyond.

“I told you they were up to something,” Hermione grinned before pulling her friend down towards the dungeon. “Now, pay up.”

“Yeah, yeah,” the other girl grumbled, getting two galleons out of her pocket. “You’ve been hanging around Draco too much.”

“You say that as if it’s a bad thing,” Hermione snickered as they entered the dungeons.

“Give it time, you’ll be smirking like a Malfoy,” her friend chuckled. 

“Ah, but I have my own smirk,” Hermione pointed out, muttering the password and slipping into the common room, “I don’t need to use the patented Malfoy Smirk.” 

“Hey, it’s a perfectly fine expression, thank you,” Draco said, mock outrage directed at the brunette.

“And it looks perfectly lovely on you, but I do believe I have a wonderful smirk all my own,” Hermione grinned. 

“I don’t know if that’s a compliment or an insult,” the blonde boy raised an eyebrow in response.

“It’s whatever you want it to be,” she grinned as she hooked her arms with Millie and Pansy before skipping through the common room.

“What do you think they’re up to?” Blaise asked after a moment.

“Dunno,” Theo shrugged. “So, do you think Ravenclaw will be able to beat Saint Potter and his Gryffindorks?”

——————————————

“Miss Granger,” a prim voice called from the entrance of the study room.

Four sets of Slytherin eyes turned to find the Deputy Headmistress standing in the doorway. Liam and Annalie decided to practice spells that were on their exams the first Saturday of the new term. Hermione chuckled as she and Draco worked through the curriculum quicker than either of the fifth years anticipated.

At the moment the Scottish woman walked into the room, Hermione aimed a jelly-leg jinx at her blonde friend. He fell over, unable to walk. He cursed loudly, trying to retaliate with a tickling hex. A bright jet flashed by Hermione’s ear as she ducked, hitting the wall right to the left of Professor McGonagall.

“I believe, Mister Malfoy, you need to improve your aim,” the woman remarked before turning back to Hermione. “Miss Granger, I am here to collect you for your weekly meeting.”

“But, what about Professor Snape?” Hermione asked, sending a confused glance at the other Slytherins.

“Professor Snape is, unfortunately, occupied with tasks for the Headmaster,” she answered. “Now then, you are expected soon, and I do not tolerate tardiness.”

“Yes, Professor,” Hermione sighed, gathering her things. “I’ll be you guys back at the common room.”

Annalie nodded at her protege while Liam simply stood there, intense eyes scrutinizing the scene before him. Draco, however, frowned, knowing the true meaning of these meetings. Concern clouded his grey eyes as he watched her. Small hairs on the back of her neck stood from his gaze. 

“We’ll talk about this later,” Draco finally nodded at her.

“Like always,” Hermione rolled her eyes before following the dragon.

She barely heard their steps click along the cold, stone corridors. As per usual, she had her revision work and course work for the previous week in her bag. Unease spread through her, a slow poison working through her veins. Today would be the first time she faced her mother without the safety net of Professor Snape. She knew her Head of House protected her during these time. Despite Neville’s assertions, Hermione wasn’t so sure about the Transfiguration professor.

“You will be meeting her in my office for the foreseeable future, Miss Granger,” McGonagall instructed. “You will report to my office at three o’clock sharp.”

Hermione assented with a nod and stepped into the considerably cozier office. Gold and scarlet accented the grey walls, the large windows letting in a plethora of natural light. A bright, warm fire crackled to the left, with a sofa and love chair sitting in front. The wooden coffee table gleamed a warm wood, with an intricate red and gold rug beneath. 

“The Headmaster informed me that you meet your mother once a week to go over your education,” she continued as she seated herself at the desk. “He also told me to supervise the meeting. I have taken the liberty of preparing a progress report for her perusal.”

At the moment, bright green light washed the room as a disgruntled Elizabeth Granger stepped through the fireplace. She looked around, momentarily confused until she saw her daughter standings stiffly by the side. Hermione put on her practiced Slytherin mask, betraying none of the feelings stuffed inside of her. 

“Hermione, duckling, where am I?” she instantly glared at the girl.

“If I may, Mrs. Granger,” the professor interrupted. 

“No, you may not,” the brunette woman turned her eyes to the other woman. “I do not even know who you are. For all I know, you may be holding my daughter hostage!”

“Mother,” Hermione exclaimed. “This is Professor McGonagall, and we are currently in her office. Professor Snape is unable to meet us, and so the Deputy Headmistress has generously allowed us to use her office for our meetings for the time being.”

“Generously?” Elizabeth sneered, raising an unimpressed eyebrow at the professor. She glanced around before taking an reluctant seat on the love seat. “At least her office appears to be better situated than Snape’s. You would think that, with magic, they could regulate the temperature. God knows that civilized society can do that much.”

“M-mum, what about school? Here is my work for this week,” Hermione stuttered, trying to change the topic.

“If you would like to peruse her marks,” Professor McGonagall said.

She handed a small stack of parchment to the brunette woman. Elizabeth Granger took the pages from the Scottish woman, looking over the sheets with boredom. A moment later, the very same pieces of parchment were thrown into the fire. Hermione gulped as she honey eyes surreptitiously glanced at her professor. Minerva McGonagall’s lips disappeared into a stern line,her eyes narrowed, and her stance as stiff as ever.

“Ah yes, school,” her mother stared at her with a familiar gleam. _Oh no,_ Hermione grimaced. “I had the most interesting letter just the other day. They said that your coursework could use some improvement, especially your prose. Something about using improper grammar in an essay. I do not need to go over your work, do I?”

“N-no Mum,” Hermione stuttered.

“Are you sure, duckling? You know what will happen the moment your marks fall any lower,” her mother bored her eyes into Hermione. “And I thought you were clever, Hermione, yet here are your marks, and they are not perfect. Practice makes perfect, duckling.”

“Y-Yes, ma’am,” the girl gulped.

“And you don’t want to lose your magic, do you?” 

“No, Mum.”

“Excellent, on to other matters,” the woman began.

Prim and proper, but not unfeeling, the transfiguration professor stood in horrified silence. The woman berated her daughter, calling upon all the faults and explaining how to ‘be a better you,’ as she said. Minerva’s mind swirled, unable to comprehend the harsh standards. By the end of the tete-a-tete, the Scottish woman could taste the disguise in her mouth, watching the distant and cold woman. 

“And now, these are your assignments of the week. I expect them to be done immaculately, do you understand?” Hermione nodded. “Remember, if it were not for me, no one would take care of you. Do make your choices accordingly.”

A moment later, the ghastly woman disappeared through the fireplace to the Leaky Cauldron. Silence rung throughout the room hung for a few moments, before Hermione gathered her new assignments and stuffed them into her bag. The noise awoke the professor, who watched the girl go about her business as if nothing happened.

“Miss Granger, are you in need of anything,” the strict woman asked, slow and concerned.

“Not at the moment, Professor,” she politely answered.

“Well, if you ever need to talk to someone,” Minerva trailed off, unsure of how to proceed.

“Thank you for the invitation, ma’am,” Hermione nodded, her face betraying nothing. “Is there anything else you need?”

“No, you are dismissed,” the woman answered, soon left alone to her thoughts. 

_I will keep watch. If the situation does not improve, then I will tell Albus. There is no reason a child should be treated like this,_ the transfiguration professor thought, her conscious appeased for the moment.

——————————————

“What do you mean?” Draco asked for the fifth time.

“I mean that I need to do better and need to be more careful with my writing,” Hermione sighed as she leaned against a transfiguration shelf.

“Have I ever told you how much I dislike your mother, Hermione?” the blonde asked.

“Almost as much as you tell me you hate Potter and Weasley,” she rolled her honey eyes.

“I don’t talk about them that much!”

“Yes, you do.”

“No, I don’t!”

“If I didn’t know you better, I’d say you had a crush on Potter.”

“Eww, Hermione,” the boy exclaimed and ducked from playful swat.

“Then why do you talk about him so much?” she chuckled, fingering the books along the shelf of the library.

“I don’t know,” he sighed. “I guess I wanted to be friends with him, and he chose someone else. It doesn’t help that Potter always looks like he’s up to something.”

“That’s because he is,” Hermione simply stated, fingering through a large volume.

“What? How would you know?” the blonde demanded.

“Unlike some people,” she smirked, returning the book to the self and wandering furtherdown the shelf. “I have cultured some interesting places from which to gain information.”

“Oh? Care to share?” he nudged her shoulder as they continued to wind through the shelves.

“Of course not!” she laughed and pulled him down a moment later.

“Hey, Hermione, what the-“ he began.

“Shh! Potter is over there, talking to Weasley and Neville,” she hissed, clamping a hand over his mouth. 

As one, they leaned over the corner of the shelf, watching the scene before them. Potter had a large book on the table in front of him, his three friends leaning over as they talked in hushed tones. Hermione strained her ears to try and hear what they were talking about. 

“And it says here Flamel is an alchemist who is friends with Dumbledore,” Potter grinned. “He is the creator of the Sorcerer’s stone, which is supposedly an elixir of life. It is said to give the person immortality, that must be what he’s after!”

“That has to be what Hagrid got from the vault,” Weasley nearly shouted, bursting with excitement. “And what Snape is after! It’s a well known fact that he supported You-Know-Who in the last war.”

“But that doesn’t make any sense, Ron,” Patil frowned. “Dumbledore trusts Snape. Just because he doesn’t like Harry or you, doesn’t mean he’s evil or that he wants Him back.”

“Parvati,” the ginger whined, “You know as well as I do that he was chanting during the game. It wasn’t until you set him on fire that he stopped!”

“It could have been any adult, though, Ron,” Neville muttered. “I-I mean, all the professors were distracted once the fire began.”

“Neville has a point,” Patil shrugged her shoulders.

“Ok, so that explains what is being hidden under Fluffy on the third floor,” Potter interjected, having ignored his friends spat. “But what else would be there? How do we get through? And what do we do?”

“We don’t even know if the stone is really there,” Patil mumbled. “Not to mention, we don’t know who would even risk their life to get it.”

“You-Know-Who, obviously,” Weasley snorted. “I mean, who else would want unlimited wealth or eternal life.”

“Anyone,” the other three deadpanned together.

“Okay, no need to get so defensive,” he threw his arms up in the air.

At that moment, Madam Pince began to stalk toward the table. Hermione gripped Draco’s hand and pulled him down the aisle before he could protest. Within moments, they were out of the library and down in the dungeons before either could speak. She didn’t slow down until they passed Snape’s office, gripping Draco’s hand. 

“Uh, Hermione,” he nervously shook his hand.

“Oh! Right, sorry,” she blushed furiously, bright pink tainting her cheeks. “I-I erm, didn’t want to be caught by Potter and the others. Or worse, Madam Pince. I quite like the library.”

“You don’t think that Professor Snape would,” Draco began.

“No, I don’t and neither do you, not really,” the brunette reassured her friend. “That leaves the fact that the sorcerer’s stone is in Hogwarts, and that someone is trying to steal it for some reason. Do you know what that means?”

“Come on, Hermione,” the blonde whined, seeing the determined gleam in her eyes. “We have enough work as it is.”

“Well, you don’t need to help. I’ll just get Millie or maybe even Blaise to help me,” she snorted, walking towards the entrance of the common room.

“If my father or godfather find out about this, I am blaming you,” he sighed, exasperated. 

“They won’t,” she grinned, devious sparkle in her brown eyes. “We are going to nudge the Gryffindors along. Let them do all the dirty work for us.”

“How?” blonde hair tilted to the side, pensive turn of his lips upon his face. “I mean, we can’t just go up and help them, can we?”

“You can’t, but I can,” she smirked. “And even if I can’t, I know Neville will come to me about it eventually.” 

“You’re still friends with him?” 

“I give everyone a fair chance, unlike some, Draco,” she rolled her eyes. “He treats me with respect, keeps me afloat of juicy Gryffindor gossip, and all I have to do is help him with homework and assignments. You’ll be surprised what you can learn from such connections.”

“If you say so,” Draco shook his head, walking into the common room.

“As a matter of fact, I do,” she smirked and followed close behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, yes, the beginning of Sassy Hermione. I wanted this to be a bit plot driven, but a bit more light and fluffy. Her meetings with her mother will continue, and I just wanted to point out the change. I hope you all enjoy this chapter! 
> 
> Also: I am calling anyone who wishes to help me brainstorm a bit. Send me a message, and I'll try to talk to you. I have a few divergent ideas about relationships and how to go about different future events, and I would enjoy someone to bounce ideas off of!
> 
> Anyone willing to do so are more than welcome to come to this chat room: http://us20.chatzy.com/16021135476300 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you will continue to enjoy the story!


	12. Lions and Dragons and Blood, Oh My!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hermione, Draco, and Millie land themselves in detention.

The next few weeks passed by in a normal routine. Hermione went to her classes, got top marks, and finished her school work, both muggle and magical, in recored time. In her group study sessions, she dug up some useful information, all the while throwing a few hexes at her housemates that persisted to show their dislike. In fact, her favorite incident included humiliating Marcus Flint as he tried to flirt with someone, but ended up on the floor, giggling ceaselessly. 

Weekly meetings progressed to the point where Professor McGonagall would intentionally keep them business like and to the point. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief when she found her meetings quick and painless. Her marks improved, according to her mother, and she appeared appeased for the moment.

What made her most suspicious, though, had to be Potter and his friends. They started to sneak out and around, even if she couldn’t see them. Often times, she caught Potter or Patil whispering fervently only to stop upon her approach. A few times, she noticed them passing notes in class, and they all crowded around Weasley when a letter came for him.

“They’re up to something,” Hermione murmured as she watched them on day at breakfast.

“Aren’t they always?” Millie chuckled. “No matter what you say, I don’t think it’s a good idea to get involved.”

“I know, but what if it’s something to do with the sorcerer’s stone? Or Snape?” Hermione frowned. 

“Come on, Hermione, they aren’t going to get anywhere if they accuse a professor without proof,” Blaise reassured his friend. “Even Saint Potter wouldn’t survive that kind of backlash.”

“That doesn’t mean they aren’t up to something or are trying to get ‘evidence.’ Not like they’ll find any,” Draco scoffed. 

“That’s not what bothers me, though,” Hermione pursed her lips. “Didn’t you notice? Patil had a few books on raising dragons from the library the other day!”

“Only you would notice who has what books,” Pansy rolled her eyes before turning back to Daphne.

“It’s strange, though,” the brunette ignored the other girl. “Why would Patil be getting books out on that? And what does it have to do with Hagrid?”

“Hagrid? Who said it had anything to do with that oaf?” Draco sneered.

“Him. Seeing as she gave the books to Hagrid when I went to follow her,” Hermione rolled her eyes.

“You what?” Draco nearly shouted.

“Oh, don’t get your knickers in a twist, Draco,” she rolled her eyes. “I was going back to the dungeons and she went to the entrance hall and met Hagrid there and they talked. I simply hid behind a wall and tried to listen in. Maybe I’ll ask Annalie about a spell for that next time we meet.”

“Well, since you are investigating this, have you discovered anything?” Millie asked, eyes gleaming with curiosity.

“Why I did indeed, thank you for asking,” her friend grinned in response. “He needed them for a ‘friend’ called Norbit.” 

“That’s not suspicious at all,” Blaise snorted. 

“Not even one little bit,” Hermione smirked. “And I bet you that the letter Weasley got this morning has something to do with it. Otherwise, why would four people be huddled over one letter?”

“I don’t know” Millie grudgingly admitted.

“You know what that means?” Hermione beamed.

“Plotting time?” her friend’s eyes twinkled. 

“We need that letter as soon as possible so we know their plan,” Hermione nodded, as a mixture of groans came from her friends.

“Why do we let her get us wrapped up in her plots?” Draco groaned.

“Because if you don’t, she’ll find someone else to adventure with, and we all know how you are about that,” Blaise snickered. He laughed louder at the sour expression upon the blonde boy’s face. “Come on, Draco! You know it’ll be fun to bust Potter for something.”

“I guess,” he grudgingly muttered.

“That’s the spirit,” the Italian patted Draco on the back.

——————————————

“There it is,” Hermione hissed at Millie. 

Sitting in the library after classes, Hermione and Millie worked on their potions work, eagerly researching their essay. That is when Hermione spotted a certain head of messy, black hair, and a letter haphazardly hidden under a charms book. She knew it to be the letter for sure, and practically tugged Millie’s arm out. 

“And just what are you going to do about it?” her friend muttered, tossing a glare at Hermione.

“We’ll need to take it, of course,” Hermione rolled her eyes. “Copy it, and return it so we can see what it says.” 

“Obviously,” Millie sighed. 

“I knew you’d see it my way,” Hermione beamed as she spied on Potter’s table. 

At that moment, most fortuitously, Draco, Vince, and Greg sauntered into the library, straight to Potter’s table. They began squabbling, and, like any good Slytherin, Hermione took her chance. Motioning for Draco to continue the argument, Hermione snuck up behind the desk and took it out. She tapped her wand once, how Annalie taught her, and a second letter appeared. Slipping the copy, Hermione made her way to Millie in one of the aisles, mouthing ‘thank you,’ to the smirking blonde.

“Did you actually just do that?” Millie asked, eyes wide. “I mean, did no one notice you snuck up behind Potter and copied a letter?”

“Draco is quite the distraction,” Hermione grinned at the girl before scurrying back to the dungeons. 

Upon her normal chaise, the fire crackled and popped, happily, warmth radiating into the chilly dungeon common room. Hermione chattered, excited and nervous, as she waited for Blaise and Draco. A few of the older students glanced at the talking first years with wary glances as they walk by. Her world went dark as someone covered her eyes.

“Hey!” Hermione cried in outrage. 

“Miss Granger,” a strangely low, husky voice playfully growled in her ear.

“Draco,” she squealed. “Get your hands off my eyes!”

“How did you know it was me?” he laughed, collapsing on the couch across from her.

“Who else would do that to me?” she giggled, rolling her eyes.

“It could have been me,” Blaise winked, causing the girls to giggle. 

“So, what did you find?” Draco asked, trying to get the attention back on him.

“Well?” the others gathered around her, squeezing in to see the scrawled writing.

“Let’s see,” Hermione opened the letter and began to read. “‘Ron, I can’t believe Hagrid did something so stupid. Tell a stranger about his three-headed dog, Fluffy? Really? Music to put it to sleep? I never heard of a cerberus that fell asleep just like that before. And for what? A dragon’s egg? Those are illegal. Try to get Hagrid to change his mind, and if you’re successful, owl me back. I’m sure the reserve would be more than happy to take in a new dragonet. Give my love to Mum, Dad, and Ginny, and watch out for the twins. I know how they love to torment you. Your brother, Charlie.’”

For a moment, all was still. Then, they all started to talk at once, the words finally setting in.

“What does it mean, dragonet?”

“How did he even-“

“A cerberus?!”

“Music to calm a slobbering dog?”

“What has the oafish halfbreed done this time?”

“And in a wood hut?”

“Quiet!” Hermione nearly shouted, drawing more attention than she would have liked. “Sorry!”

The older students went back to their previous activities, suspicion openly shining in their eyes. Hermione and her friends huddled closer together, hoping to keep the rest of the house gathered from hearing them.

“So, Hagrid has a dragon egg in his hut, and is trying to hatch it,” Hermione summarized. “How in the name of Slytherin is no one suspicious!”

“I’m more worried about the cerberus on Hogwarts ground,” Blaise muttered. “I mean, where would they keep a thing so big? Why would they even need it?”

Millie and Hermione gasped as their eyes met. A single thought ran through their minds: _the sorcerer’s stone!_ The possibility that they brought it to the castle for safe keeping suddenly had a lot more credence than before. Hermione knew that the castle had more wards and protections than most anywhere in wizarding Britain. 

“They know something,” Blaise stage whispered to his blonde counterpart. 

“And I want to know what,” Draco mused aloud.

Meanwhile, the girls started to put together what they knew, whispering frantically between the two, dragon forgotten for a moment. 

“Ladies, ladies,” Blaise suavely maneuvered himself between the two girls. “I think you have some explaining to do.”

Honey and chocolate eyes glanced at each other, a silent conversation between friends ensued, and then they sighed. Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose as the potions master was wont to do, and Millie chuckled softly.

“You didn’t think you could do this without them knowing, Hermione?” Millie snorted, amused.

“I was hoping to do it on my own terms,” Hermione grumbled.

“Tell us what?” Draco raised a brow, expression curious and expectant. 

“Well, you see, I had a tip about some of their adventures. On the night that Potter got stood up for a duel,” she gave Draco a stink eye, for which he had the shame to blush and look down. “They ran into the forbidden third floor corridor and came face to face with… Fluffy. Apparently he stood over a trap door. 

“Patil, Potter, and Weasley seem to think it’s hiding the Sorcerer’s Stone, also known as the Philosopher’s stone. It’s suppose to be able to produce gold from non-precious metals, and, of course, make the Elixir of Life,” she continued in lecture mode. “Apparently, on the day that Hagrid fetched Potter and brought him to Diagon Alley, they withdrew something small from a high security vault. The next day, there was a break in Gringotts for the same vault.”

“Well, that’s not suspicious at all,” Draco drawled, leaning back in the chair.

“Not even a little bit,” Blaise dryly snorted.

“It gets better,” Millie grinned at the boys. “You see, Hermione found out that they believe the stone is being guarded in the castle. Fluffy is one of those protection measures.”

“But who would want the stone?” Blaise asked, brows furrowed.

“Really, Zabini? I thought you were smarter than that,” Hermione deadpanned after a moment. 

“Who wouldn’t want eternal life? Or wealth,” Millie rolled her eyes. 

“Let me put it this way,” Hermione asked, sly grin upon her face. “Who would _need_ something to bring them to life?”

None of the others connected the dots, and, finally frustrated, Hermione dramatically sighed, leaning against the chaise. Soon, conversation began, all resuming to normal. Hermione’s mind stewed in her thoughts. Perhaps it won’t come to pass. Maybe she and Potter were just being horribly pathetic and paranoid. Yet, she couldn’t stop the cold pit that formed in her stomach at the thought.

“Do you think something bad will happen?” Hermione whispered to no one, her forlorn expression missed by almost everyone. 

“Even if something bad did happen, I’ll protect you,” came the unexpected answer.

Hermione wheeled around to find herself staring at oddly solemn face. Swirls of the palest blues danced in his eyes. Honey examined and scrutinized them, looking for any sign, emotion, or hint. To her surprise, only pure sincerity and seriousness were present, making some twist in her stomach. A faint blush stained her cheeks as she returned his intense gaze before she wrenched her head towards the fire once more.

“Thank you, Draco,” she murmured, giving a small, shy smile into the boy.

Blaise watched the scene with interest, an emotion unknown to him taking hold. He didn’t like how Hermione smiled at his best friend. Why did he get the kind, funny, clever girl? He never thought he’d regret not coming to school on time. Maybe if he were here the whole time, she’d be looking at him like that.

“I think it’s time to study for once,” Hermione sighed, a small grin blossoming on her face the rest of the group groaned. “What? We ran from the library to escape Potter. I was in the middle of Professor Snape’s essay.”

——————————————

“Harry,” a female voice hissed in study hall, “Hagrid said it would hatch tonight!”

“Are you sure, Parvarti?” Potter whispered back, watching the monitor pace up and down.

“Yes, he told me on my way back from Herbology,” she nodded, excitement in her eyes.

“We’ll need to tell Ron and Neville,” Potter’s bright eyes twinkled.

“I cannot tell you how excited I am to see a dragon hatch,” Patil gushed. “So few people have ever seen it. We have to go right after dinner, though.”

Unbeknownst to them, a certain silver haired Slytherin listened in, a mischievous grin erupted onto his face. _Oh, do I have news for her,_ he thought as the bell tolled, signaling the end of the study period. He maneuvered through the crowd, finding Millie and Hermione deep in discussion debating something or the other about Transfiguration. 

“Hermione, you’ll never guess what,” Draco grinned as he snuck up behind the bushy-haired girl. 

“Did Weasley get pranked again by his brothers? I swear, if he did, I’ll have to send a thank you note to them,” the brunette sniggered.

“No, not yet, sorry to disappoint,” he smile grew larger. “It’s going to happen. Tonight.” 

“Tonight?” she whispered, looking round the hall in hopes no one else noticed. Millie regarded the pair with curiosity, but trusted Hermione to fill her in afterwards. “Do you think we should-“

“Go? Definitely,” he smirked, extending his arm for her to take. “My lady, I do believe we have a birthday to celebrate.”

“Why do you, now?” she returned the expression, mischief in her eyes as her arm hooked around his. “Then, please, good sir, lead us to the common room to return our study materials before we partake in the evening meal.”

Before she could protest, Hermione linked arms with Millie, the three took off to the dungeons. Laughing and grinning, they entered the aristocratic room of silver and green. Annalie, Jeremey and Gina watched as the group met up with the other first years in ‘their’ spot, just a few tables away. They knew they were plotting, what alluded them. 

“Remember, Hermione,” Draco whispered into her ear before they split to their dorms. “After dinner, behind the grand staircase.”

“Like I’d forget,” she raised an eyebrow, expression amused and exasperated. 

Millie watched her best friend as they walked up the stairs to the girl’s dormitories. They chatted and smiled, but she could tell her mind wandered elsewhere. What did Draco say to her at the end of their study period? She wanted to ask, but never found the proper opportunity. Both Hermione and Draco are dragged to the side of their mentors, having what appeared to be a lesson of some sort. They sat across from Annalie and Jeremy, ‘attending’ to each other as the elder pair saw fit. Millie chuckled at the scowls and arch smirks, both first years obviously not wanting part of it.

“Remember, little snake, we meet tomorrow after dinner,” Annalie grinned at Hermione as she ruffled her hair.

“Of course, Annalie,” the girl rolled her eyes, smile on her face before she left the hall. 

Only minutes later, her blonde companion left, scowling at the reprimands to his ‘gentlemanly behavior.’ The two teens, tempted to follow, instead smirked. Annalie mentally began composing a letter to the Lady Malfoy about her son’s behavior. They were thick as thieves, working hard together in classes, their extra lessons, and even in their schemes.

“They seem cozy,” Jeremy finally remarked.

“Why do you think we are giving them these ‘attending with a date’ lessons,” Annalie smirked at the brunette next to her.

He leans forward and placed a soft, sweet kiss on her lips. “I love the way your mind works.”

——————————————

“Look,” Draco whispered, “They’re going now.”

“We’ve got to follow them at a distance, Draco,” Hermione murmured, holding the boy at her side by his wrist. “I don’t want them finding out.”

“And what if we’re out after curfew?” the blonde asked as he tried to keep his nerves in check. He’s never done something like this with a girl before. He took a deep breath and continued, “We’ll be caught by the dragon, or worse, Snape.”

“Professor Snape, Draco,” Hermione lightly scolded, hand slipping to hold his without a second thought. “Even if he’s your godfather, he’s our professor and head of house first.”

“Yeah, yeah, but you get the idea,” grey eyes rolled before studying the bushy haired witch next to him.

“Come on, let’s go and keep quiet,” she murmured as they began to walk behind them. 

Sun had set, leaving an inky sky, bright with stars, and minimal moon. Even if they couldn’t see much beyond their hands, it meant that the Gryffindors couldn’t either. As they walked down the path, Hermione and Draco bumped against each other. Very little was said between the pair, instead opting to enjoy the peace of the night.

Voices leaked out of the hut at the same moment Draco caught sight of a sliver of light. He motioned for Hermione to follow his lead, squeezing her hand to reassure her. She followed close behind, almost closing her eyes to hear better. Cracking and shouts were heard, though nothing definite. Hagrid’s boisterous voice came through, a rumble more so than words, excitement evident in the tone.

“Merlin, Hermione, come and watch this,” Draco breathed.

She neared the window before freezing. A large, vividly colored egg wobbled and creaked, catching everyone’s attention. Plaintive sounds echoed and came through the hard substance. Web-like cracks began to appear on the egg as the loud sound of creaking filled the air. Within moments, a piece flew off, almost of the window they stood at. Soon, more and more of the shell fell around and, within moments, a baby dragon shook the remaining of it’s shell off.

“Norbit! I’m your mummy,” the giant cooed.

“It’s so… cute,” Hermione giggled, her smile soft and enraptured.

“Dragons aren’t supposed to be cute,” Draco hissed, indignant. “He is noble and regal.”

“He can’t even walk,” the brunette snorted, leaning in to see more.

“That doesn’t matter, dragons are dangerous anyways,” her companion smirked. Just then, a jet of flame erupted from Norbit’s mouth singeing Hagrid’s beard. “Told you so.”

“That doesn’t mean he isn’t adorable or endearing,” Hermione chuckled when, at that moment, the little dragon lunged forward and bit Weasley. “Look, we didn’t even need to train it! Already hates Gryffindors. Do you think Professor Snape would let us keep him as a house mascot?”

“Fat chance,” he snorted. “But something tells me we need to get out of here.”

Hermione agreed and they began to traverse the path back to the castle, still holding hands. Neither noticed even as the curfew bell tolled. They glanced at each other, panic clear in their eyes. They began to spring up the steps, Hermione out of breath before something happened and she stumbled backwards.

“Hermione? Hermione,” Draco yelled, pulling her up right. 

“Ow,” she groaned, rubbing the back of her head and leaning against the wall. “I think I sprained something.”

“Sprained something? You’re lucky you didn’t break your head,” the boy panicked.

“Honestly, Draco, just take me to the hospital wing,” she sighed, pain throbbing through her left ankle.

“But Madam Pomfrey will call Snape,” he groaned. “We’ll lose points and get a detention and then Jeremy and Annalie will kill us during our next sessions.”

“At this point, if you're not going to help me, I’m going to limp to the hospital wing myself,” she snapped, trying to get up and support her weight. 

Wincing with every step, she limped ahead of Draco. Running his hand through his hair, he sighed in defeat. He promised over the holiday he would do anything to protect, and he dragged her out there tonight. Resigned, arms wound around her shoulders as they shuffled towards the hospital wing. She gave him an appreciative glance, leaning against him.

“And what do we have here?” a cold voice cut through the silence. To their left was the Weasley prefect. _Really, aren’t there enough of them?_ Draco internally groaned. “Two first years out of bed and going somewhere? Ten points from Slytherin, each, for being out after hours.”

“Yes, sir,” Hermione moaned. “I fell down the stairs and sprained my ankle. Draco is helping me to the hospital wing so I don’t break the bone next.”

“So I see,” he gave them a calculated stare. “I will still need to address your head of house, of course.”

“We know,” Hermione sighed, “May we go?”

“Yes, yes, let’s go see Madam Pomfrey, I’m sure she’s still awake,” the Gryffindor prefect sighed. 

Just then, a loud commotion echoed through the halls as the worried voices of Neville, Potter, and Patil came closer. Unknown groans accompanied them, most likely belonging to the bitten Weasley. Hermione sighed and started to shuffle towards the hospital wing now that the elder Weasley no longer had his attention on her.

“Ron? Harry? Neville? Parvarti? What are _you_ doing out of bed?” the elder Weasley exclaimed, eyes nearly bugging out his skull. 

“Ron got hurt and we don’t know what’s wrong,” Patil improvised, not noticing the two Slytherins.

“You do know I’ll have to take points and alert Professor McGonagall, right?” he said, distress at both the thought of punishing his own house as well as his brother’s apparently injury.

“W-we didn’t mean to,” Neville stuttered.

“I know, but still,” Percy Weasley sighed. “Ten points from Gryffindor, each, for being out of bed after hours.”

Taking that as their cue, Hermione and Draco left the crowd of lions to themselves. Indignant voices echoed down the halls until they turned the corner to the Hospital wings. Within minutes, the mediwitch bustled around her, fixing and scolding her in turns before Professor Snape appeared in front of the pair of first years. Hermione gulped at the look on his face.

“Can you tell me why you are out after hours?” He murmured, quiet and deadly.

“I-I slipped and sprained my ankle on our way back before curfew,” Hermione stuttered, head turned down. “Draco came with me so I wouldn’t break something and be lying on the floor.”

For a tense moment, both students simply looked at their Head of House, heedless of the commotion of the lions’ entrance. Nothing seemed to matter at that moment. Instead, Hermione felt something brush against her head, as if it were pushing in. She didn’t know what it was, and it almost tickled. Images of the dragon hatching, and of her fall scrambling back to the castle raced through her mind, as she tried to keep her mask on.

“Very well,” the man nodded. “I take it that you have been assigned a detention?”

“I believe the prefect was a bit preoccupied, but that was part of the understanding,” Draco nodded, knowing better than to upset his godfather with disrespect.

“Excellent. I believe I know the perfect punishment for all of you,” he sneered and watched as both of his students gulped, fear beginning to show in their eyes. “Don’t worry, the Gryffindors will be forced to attend it as well.”

He turned on his heel and left in a dramatic swirl of his black robes. Hermione and Draco simply looked at each other and gulped. She wasn’t worried about the points. Honestly, she would probably make at least twice as many within the next day or two. No, what she feared was the punishment that her mentor would dole out as well as the dreaded detention.

——————————————

“And what did Professor Snape say you were to do?” Annalie frowned at her apprentice.

“Tonight, detention with Hagrid,” she murmured, trying her hardest to keep her composure under the intense scrutiny.

“And you were going to the hospital wing after you injured yourself?” Hermione the nodded. “Draco was helping you?” Another nod. “Do you know what that oaf has planned?”

“Professor Snape said something about going into the Forbidden Forest,” she replied, trying to keep the trembling fear from her voice. “No one knows exactly, and only Weasley is exempt, but the rest of us have to go.”

“This time is your warning,” the blonde stared at the girl in front of her. “I have deemed that punishment enough. I expect a full summary and run down of your detention, and why you cannot be breaking rules like that again.”

“Yes, Annalie,” Hermione nodded, not wanting to upset the teen any further. 

While Slytherin House was not please with either Hermione or Draco, they at least relished in the fact that Gryffindor lost twice as many. Most of the snakes also knew that Hermione and Draco would earn those points back within the day, and weren’t too worried. What worried Hermione more than anything is the fact that they were going to go into the forbidden forest tonight.

The day passed far quicker than Hermione would have liked. How odd that time appeared relative, and that, when she wanted it to go slower, it happened quicker than she could have helped. Before she knew it, Hermione and Draco stood in front of Hagrid’s hut, odd sounds coming from within. An amused glance passed between the two, thinking of the dragonet inside.

Shortly before the time assigned, the rest of the Gryffindors and Hagrid emerged from the hut. Their laughing and smiles stopped upon seeing Hermione and Draco. While the boy scowled, Hermione looked bored and detached. 

“Malfoy, Granger,” Potter sneered.

“Potter,” Hermione nodded, placing a hand on Draco’s arm to keep him from doing something stupid. “Patil. Hello Neville, are you ready for tonight?”

For a few minutes, Hermione and the shy Gryffindor exchanged pleasantries, much to almost everyone’s surprise. Draco knew of her friendship with the chubby boy, but it seemed like his friends weren’t quite aware of the fact. It wasn’t until Hagrid remerged from the hut that they fell silent.

“Now then, something been killing the unicorns in the forest,” The half-giant began. “And what we’re gonna be doing is going through the forest in two groups. Just before dinner, I found fresh unicorn blood. Don’t be drinkin’ it now. While it heals you and can keep you alive, anyone who drinks unicorn blood will live a cursed life.”

“H-how are we going to be safe in the forest?” Neville stuttered, face suddenly pale.

“Well, I have me crossbow and the other group can take Fang, if you like, but he’s a big chicken,” he motioned towards the boar hound, who simply cocked his massive head and whined. 

“Great, we’re either with the half giant or wandering alone with his dog,” Draco muttered into her ear. “This can’t get any better, can it?”

“Now then, I’ll take Granger and Parvati,” Hagrid rumbled. “Harry, Neville, and Malfoy, you lot take fang.”

“We’ll be fine,” Hermione murmured, squeezing his hand before following the half giant.

Taking point, and trying not to show his fear or nerves, Draco led the second group into the forest, taking the opposite fork as Hermione. She shot him a parting smile. For the next half hour, Hermione tuned out the Gryffindors, looking for anything that could be unicorn blood. Patil and Hagrid talked non-stop in what they thought was hushed voices.

Suddenly a scream ripped through the forest, and red sparks flew into the air. Following the sound, Hagrid bounded through the tree trunks, the two first years clambering behind him. What they found nearly made Hermione snort and yell at once. Draco, laughing at a prostrated Neville, obviously startled. Potter fumed at her blonde friend, obviously upset.

“I see what happened,” Hagrid growled. “Malfoy, did you really need to scare Neville?”

“No,” he grinned until he noticed Hermione’s face in which he said in a more conciliatory tone, “I didn’t have to.”

“Well then, Neville come with me,” Hagrid gruffly sighed. “Granger, you go with those two. Keep them in line.”

Hermione simply nodded, trading places with Neville. She gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder as they passed. Within moments, they are off again, Hermione and Draco walking ahead of Potter. Dappled light shone through the trees, casting ghastly patterns. Every snapping twig and scurrying animal sounded like a horrible monster.

“What’s that,” Hermione murmured, shining her wind light upon an odd spot on a fern. “You guys, I think I found something.”

“Is it-“ Draco trailed off.

“Yep,” she let out a controlled breath, trying not to shudder. “Something is out here, killing unicorns.”

By this time Potter had come up to her other side, looking at the spot of blood. Sharp, green eyes searched the forest floor, and soon, they were following suit. Within moments, the trail of silver glinting in the starlight lead them off the path. Hermione knew and felt the same fear as the others. Without thinking, Draco took her hand for reassurance, squeezing it every so often. As they ventured further into the forest, the trail became fresher, blood sticking and wet, the iron scent strong in the air. As the small group peered over a particularly large root, a most horrific sight greeted them.

A beautiful, white creature lay upon the ground, unmoving and undeniably dead. Silver hair flowed on the ground, a moonlit river glittering in the light of the clearing. Loud slurping echoed through the area as a black robbed creature hunched over the fallen, majestic creature. The students huddled together as it stiffened, as if sensing their proximity. Hermione’s knuckles were white with how hard she squeezed Draco’s. On her other side, Potter sucked in air, so loud it made the creature lift his head up. Silver dripped off it’s chin and onto the cloak, catching what little light the night afforded.

Before they could blink, it charged them. Hermione tried to back away, instead, falling to the ground in a heap as she tripped over a hidden root. Everything on the ground pressed into her back. A hidden rock cut upon her leg and she hissed in pain. Potter, the maniac Gryffindor that he was, approached the thing, trying to tell it off instead of shooting sparks. Draco, the only sensible one left, shot up sparks and pulled Hermione behind the root they hid, shielding her and trying to hide.

“Yessss,” the creature hissed at Potter, “Fear me, Harry Potter. You will be the first to die.”

It continued to hiss at the Gryffindor, transfixed for some reason. She gulped, pressing her back against the side of the tree, hoping nothing decided to crawl into her uniform -not even Hermione could hold back a scream if a spider decided to take residence in her clothes. Draco huddled next to her, looked up and being as quiet as possible.

Without warning, the create appeared before the two Slytherins, hissing at them. Her mind blanked and stopped. She couldn’t see the eyes, the hood cast a shadow over the face, but that didn’t stop the unnerving chill from seeping into her bones. She held tight onto her friend, a soft whimper escaping him. It smirked at the Slytherins. How Hermione knew, she never could understand. Yet, she swore she saw the malice in whatever eyes were hidden under that hood.

“The Malfoy heir, hm,” it murmured. “Yesss, your family has always been quite loyal to me. Will you continue your family name? Or side with thisss,” it stopped and scented the air like a beast, “Mudblood.”

“S-She’s the smartest witch I know,” He managed to whisper, trying to protect his best friend.

“Mmm, is that her blood I smell?” the creature smirked, voice soft and dangerous. “Quite a powerful little bitch, but a mudblood none-the-lesss.”

“I-I’m a S-Slytherin, too,” Hermione managed to stutter. “Th-the Hat put me here just like everyone e-else!”

“How interesssting,” it chuckled, leaning forward and sniffing once more. “Then perhaps you can be useful yet.”

In the blink of an eye, not that Hermione, Draco, or Potter could close their eyes, the shadowy figure disappeared into the forest. Hermione began to loosen her grip on Draco as Potter came over and helped the two Slytherins up. Only as the adrenaline ebbed away did Hermione feel the hot pain of a cut and blood dripping down her leg. Once more injuring her left leg, She began to stand up. 

Thundering footsteps came closer as Hagrid, the run-off Fang, Neville, and Patil came into the clearing. It took a few moments to take in the scene before them. A pale, bleeding Hermione leaned heavily against a ghostly white Draco. Potter’s eyes bounced from the dead unicorn to the Slytherins. Whatever the figure said to them obviously scared the pair more so than either would like to admit. He could see the fear in their normally guarded gazes. Though, perhaps most surprising of all, was the fact that they were the only reason why they got any help.

“What happened here?” Hagrid called out, worried gaze on Hermione’s bleeding leg.

“W-we found the evil monster killing the unicorns,” Hermione whispered.

Shock and suspicion made their way to the gamekeeper’s face as Harry told them what happened. Hagrid took Hermione into his own arms as he lead the first years to the castle once more. Neville appeared terrified, casting worried glances at Hermione ever few minutes, not sure if she should talk to her or not. Draco never left her side, not even to call Professor Snape or Annalie. 

“And then the thing went up to them,” Potter motioned towards Hermione and Draco, “And said some stuff. I heard him sniffing around and, well, it didn’t sound good.”

“Brilliant observation,” Draco sneered, poorly covering up the worry. “It threatened Hermione since she’s a muggle-born.”

Silence fell upon the group as they entered the entrance hall. Patil went to find Professor Snape, while Potter fetched Dumbledore. Grudgingly, Draco went to get Annalie, leaving Neville and Hagrid as she found herself in the hospital wing for the second time in two days. 

“I’m so sorry, Hermione,” Neville mumbled. “I didn’t think something like this could happen.”

“It’s not your fault, Neville,” she soothed the spooked lion cub. “It could have been worse, really.”

“That is true,” the mediwitch tutted. “But the rock cut pretty deep. You’ll be spending the night, young lady. I can heal cuts, but you need to rest the muscle as it strengthens.”

Hermione nodded, mind running away from her with the night’s events. She sighed and leaned back into the cushions, waiting for the professors, Annalie, and Draco. She didn’t like what this night meant for her. Not one bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was kind of fun. I didn't want to take up too much time, nor did I feel like having Hermione chasing Draco around to catch them transporting a dragon. Plus, I think it is a fun progression. Someone canon, but not at all. Plus, I wanted this to be a Slytherin Hermione story where Voldie doesn't really like nor want her (at least at this point). 
> 
> For those wanting to brainstorm: Chat thing is not working, so I am going to end up making a free forum or something. I'd love to hear your ideas and thoughts for where this and other stories could go. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, and until next time =)


	13. The Enemy of My Enemy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Several plans start to fall in place, as alliances are made in the aftermath of the night before.

Severus dragged a hand through his hair, before resting his head upon his palms. The situation was infinitesimally worse than his nightmares could have conjured. _He_ decided to gain a follower in Hogwarts stupid enough to allow Him to possess them. It threatened his students, drank unicorn blood, and no one could see who it was.

The last thing he expected this evening was to hear this news. No, he knew about the dragonet in the giant’s hut, thanks to the open mind of of snakes, and their detention in the Forbidden Forest appeared like poetic justice, hence why he even allowed his godson to attend it. When the Gryffindor Patil made a racket in his dungeons, the potions professor knew something bad happened.

What ensued kept the professor up early into the morning, leaving him no choice but to flow his long time friend. Thinking back on the events, Severus heaved yet another deep, tired sigh. Sometimes, he felt twenty years older than his age.

——————————————

_Hermione sat in her bed, Madam Pomfrey shoving several potions at her. He brought his own, personal dreamless sleep for the Slytherin muggle-born, not trusting the student-brewed for his snake. Two bright pink spots appeared on apples of her cheek, the only color visible on her skin. Obviously tired and scared, Hermione shook slightly, to which her unlikely friend clutched her hand tighter._

_A moment later, fifth year prefect and her mentor, Annalie Southington burst into the Hospital Wing, a young, dirty Draco Malfoy trailing behind. A quick “Hello, sir,” and the first year boy sat on the edge of her bed and took her free hand. Severus agreed with Lucius’ assessment on the children, and, if the situation were not grave, he would almost have smiled. Instead, the need to protect these innocent children from danger welled up. From the scenes and pictures Patil’s mind practically shoved at him, the scene she stumbled upon was less than promising._

_Potter stood next to the Patil girl, not listening to a single word she whispered to him. Several beds down, the prone form of the latest Weasley groaned as if to remind everyone he existed. While the Gryffindor Patil casted a worried glance, no one else appeared to care. Annalie stood, pale and alarmed, at the sight of her apprentice. No one spoke, nor made any unnecessary sounds, leaving a fragile silence ringing in the cavernous wing. Not even Poppy Pomfrey fussed out loud, simply gave Hermione a blood replenishing potion._

_“Severus, what has happened?” Albus Dumbledore queried as he swept to her bedside, Minerva McGonagall at his side._

_“I believe Mister Potter, Mister Malfoy, and Miss Granger would know best,” Severus resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Like he would start the questioning without the Headmaster present. Well, the verbal one, at least._

_“Malfoy, Granger, and I were with Fang,” Severus withheld a sneer of disgust as Potter explained. Did the halfbreed oaf think a fearful dog protection? “When Granger found some unicorn blood. We started to follow it, and found this… black robbed_ thing _in a clearing. I went up to it, trying to get it away. I-I thought the unicorn might’ve still had a chance,” the boy mumbled._

_“Hermione fell backwards and cut herself, and seeing as Potter couldn’t think clearly, I sent up sparks like he,” Draco pointed at Hagrid, “Instructed us. Since she couldn’t move, I hid us behind a huge tree root sticking up from the ground.”_

_“Y-Yeah, that’s what_ they _did,” Potter tried to reassert himself, as if Severus’ godson acted the part of a coward. Obviously this boy had James Potter’s sense of self preservation -none. Lily’s emerald eyes be damned. “It came up to me a-and spoke.”_

_“What did it say, my dear boy,” Dumbledore gently prodded the boy._

_“He told me things. H-how m-my parents were pathetic, and how I’d be the first to die,” the black haired lion cub gulped. “Th-then it heard something and flew by me. It went to them.” His finger pointed towards the Slytherins on the bed._

_“Like I’d call that thing to me,” Draco sneered at the Gryffindor. Severus felt proud at the instantaneous response. “Really Potter, I told you, that thing threatened my best friend’s life.” The Boy-Who-Lived raised an eyebrow, obviously skeptical of the feet._

_“And what did it say exactly, Mister Malfoy?” McGonagall’s crisps Scottish accent asked._

_The boy paused for a moment, as if noticing her for the first time. If it weren’t for the obvious concern for the girl, Severus knew his godson would have sneered at the transfiguration professor. Instead, he took a deep breath and looked towards him for reassurance. A slight nod reassured the young boy, and he turned back towards the Headmaster._

_“He knew I am a Malfoy, the heir, and asked if I-I would carry on my family name,” Draco said, voice surprisingly steady and calm all things considering. Severus noticed the squeeze from his friend’s hand as the boy continued. “He asked if I would betray him by helping her. He called her the m-word. When she mentioned she is a Slytherin, too, it_ sniffed _the air and said she is powerful, but still a muggle-born, but she may serve some uses.”_

_A needle could be heard inside the room. Minerva’s horrified face echoed what Severus felt, but knew not to express. Things were indeed worse than he believed. Fear flooded his system like it hadn’t for over ten years._ He _is making a serious comeback and some bumbling idiot within this school is trying to help Him!_

_“Well then, Poppy,” Minerva sighed, heavy and tired, “Are my Gryffindors cleared? All except for Ronald, of course/“_

_“Yes, Minerva,” the mediwitch nodded. “Miss Patil, Mister Potter, and Mister Longbottom are cleared. I suspect all they need is a restful night, which they can have in their own beds.”_

_The woman nodded before whispering to Albus. While Severus could not know exactly what she said, the potions master’s imagination filled in a few blanks. It appeared Lucius knew how to scheme with the best of them, something that He did not take into account. In fact, this may be just what his old friend needed to push him over the metaphorical ledge. At least, that’s what he hoped._

_“Severus, I know you have your own brew of Dreamless Sleep for Miss Granger,” Poppy addressed him, breaking his reverie. “Mister Malfoy is perfectly fine. Tired, in need of a was, but healthy. Miss Granger needs a night here, though, and a few more blood replenishing potions. Her cut was deep, and her leg needs to strengthen before she can leave safely.”_

_“Thank you, Madam Pomfrey,” He nodded, relief in his veins. “Miss Southington, I’ll leave you to escort Mister Malfoy back to the common room.” The young woman nodded. “And Draco, I’ll contact your father.”_

_“Y-yes sir,” he mumbled._

_“Let’s give them a moment, yes?” Poppy bustled him and the fifth year toward the door._

_Once out of earshot, the pair of first years began to talk in hushed tones. Hermione rolled her eyes at Draco’s dramatics, a small smile playing on her still pale lips. How much blood did she manage to lose? He heard a soft chuckle and saw the pair embrace for a moment. With a last few words between them, Draco got up, squeezed her hand one last time and nodded at Severus._

_“Come on, Draco,” Annalie nodded. “Jeremy is worried. Let’s get back to the common room.” She turned towards him. “Professor.”_

_“Draco,” he murmured, taking his godson by the shoulders._

_Gazing into grey eyes, eerily like his father’s, he searched for any sign of lingering distress, dark magic, anything. A few moments gently probing his mind, and Severus knew Draco to be afraid, more so for Hermione than himself, but unharmed otherwise._

_“I am glad you are safe,” the stern potions professor sighed. “Make sure to watch after her. She may be in more danger than she knows.”_

_“I know Uncle Sev,” the boy smiled, shy and tentative, seeing his godfather beneath the hard, professor shell. He threw his arms around Severus’ neck. “Thank you.”_

_And with that, he followed the youngest Southington out of the hospital wing. A small, incredulous smile graced his face. He forgot how affectionate the boy could be when the moment struck him. While he looked like his father, the boy possessed his mother’s temperament, loving and sweet to those he deemed worthy._

_“Professor?” Hermione’s soft voice called across the room. “May I have that potion now?”_

_“Yes, I believe that would be for the best,” He sighed, handing the girl the vial._

_“Thank you, sir,” she nodded before she downed the vial in one go, a grimace upon her face. “You’d think we’d figure out how to make some of this taste better.”_

_“Alas, potion effectiveness is not dependent on its taste,” Severus quirked an eyebrow, to which the girl beamed._

_“Thank you for everything, Professor,” she softly said as she snuggled into the cotton sheets._

_Within moments, her soft breathing filled the air, her pale face peaceful at last. Another rush of relief filled the potions master, happy that whoever did this did not do more lasting damage. He bid the mediwitch goodnight before heading back to his private chambers, mind whirling. A quick owl to the Malfoy house ensured him an early meeting the next morning with the patriarch._

——————————————

That is how Severus found himself, hours later, staring into the fire he kept roaring. The dancing flames reflected in his dazed gaze. The last thing Severus wanted to do was play that role again. To bring his precious godson into that life. Worst of all, he didn’t want to drag Hermione into that mess. Whether anyone knew it, and Severus suspected that the point did not escape the girl, the brunette muggle-born was now on the Dark Lord’s radar. A powerful muggle-born, first in over two centuries, well connected within her house, did not escape His notice. 

A string of soft courses left him as he finished his glass of firewhiskey, setting the tumbler down on the side table for a house elf to clean up later. He needed to rest, at least a few hours. Tomorrow would be hell, and Severus knew several important meeting would happen.

——————————————

Whispers woke Hermione the next morning, feeling groggy and slow. Her fuzzy tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth as her eyes refused to budge. However, her ears worked just fine. She eventually made out the sounds of Potter and Patil, most likely at Weasley’s bed. She groaned, and noticed someone squeezing here hand.

“Hermione,” the soft, excited voice of Draco sighed in relief.

“Ugh,” she groaned. “Professor Snape knows how to make potions.”

“Uncle Sev is the potions master for a reason, Hermione,” the blonde chuckled. “How are you, though?”

“Tired, sore,” she forced her eyes open, and found Draco’s blond hair and grey eyes hovering to the left of her bed. A soft smile formed at his furrowed brow and concerned expression. In a soft whisper, she admitted, “I am also terrified, Draco. I… I don’t want Him back. He won’t… He’ll… I… I don’t want to die.”

“You won’t,” he whispered, fierce and sure. “I won’t let Him. I don’t care what my parents say, or… Or… Him.”

He meant what he said during Christmas holiday. He would do anything to protect his best friend. Seeing her in danger convinced him of that. Draco didn’t know when, nor did he care how, she became so important. He just wanted her to be safe. Was that too much to ask for?

“Thank you, Draco,” she smiled at him. “You’re the best friend a girl could ask for.”

“Well, come on lazy bones,” he beamed. “It’s time to get to breakfast before everyone gets worried. Then we have double transfiguration with the Ravenclaws.”

“Oh, come on Draco,” she teased, “You know you love Professor McGonagall deep down.”

The pair teased and taunted as Madam Pomfrey performed her exit check-up and Hermione changed into the fresh clothes Annalie gave the blonde that morning. They walked towards the Great Hall, burying the ordeal of the night before for the moment. Worry and concern met her from her friends, curious as to why she didn’t return to the dorm. Annalie and Draco kept silent on the reason, and, after avoiding their questions, everything settled into place.

Hermione noticed a pair of concerned green eyes watching her. She made no move to acknowledge him, and moved on with her day, blissfully ignorant of the plethora of meetings her adventure the night before had thrown into action. Before breakfast, the Headmaster had contacted select aurors. After the morning meal, Professor Snape planned to meet with the elder Malfoy, and Minerva knew she had to talk to Dumbledore.

All the brunette knew as that, for the day, in the light of the sun, no one would be able to touch her. Her best friend watched after her, and, if she looked far away or fearful, he’d shake it out of her. Millie joked and smiled, helping to pull her out of any funks, and even Annalie withheld whatever punishments and lecture would be sure to follow.

——————————————

“Are you sure, Severus?” Lucius Malfoy sighed, yearning for a glass of alcohol even if it were half nine in the morning.

“Yes, Lucius,” the potions master sighed. “You saw what I did, what your son said.”

Dark eyes assessed the man before him. No emotion slipped from the aristocrat. Sitting back in the chair, sipping his tea, he appeared at ease. If not for the years of friendship, Severus would never had noticed the tension of his shoulders, nor the jump of a small vein, all pointing towards great thought.

“He threatened Draco? Hermione, I expected,” the blonde sighed, “But my own son?”

“So it would seem,” the noncommittal answer.

“It would seem lines are starting to be drawn,” he pursed his lips. “I cannot have anyone threatening my family. Not even Him.”

“Ah, so your choice is finally made?” Severus quirked a brow.

“It has been made for quite some time, I suppose,” the other man shrugged. “I am just started it is starting already. Are you sure that whatever He wants is well guarded?”

“Yes,” the dark man gazed at the fire. “All the masters have added their own layers of protection. I fear, however, that it may not be enough.”

Together, the men frowned, lost in their thoughts. Lucius mused about his plan, how it may need to be changed or condensing the timeline. Severus assured him that McGonagall showed signs of thawing, and that last night’s events would only help. None of the adults deluded themselves into believing the young brunette safe. 

“At least it will force Dumbledore to think about your generous offer,” Lucius smirked to himself.

“One would think,” he shrugged. “Perhaps, the old man would be agreeable to the ‘light’ use of such questionable magic.”

“I hope you are right, for her sake,” Lucius murmured more to himself. “Going through with this may be the only way to keep her safe. If she is ‘interesting,’ He will hunt her down in the muggle world.”

Severus nodded, his mind flying fast. He had another hour before his first class of the day, but couldn’t seem to concentrate. While he didn’t admit it to any of the students, careful of appearances, Hermione reminded the potions master of his childhood love. Smart, tenacious, competitive, fair. Oh, he noticed her slyly helping Longbottom once in a while. He knew she held mixed house study groups, respected those who did the same for her. Yet, he saw the vindictive streak, pragmatic, and highly ambitious. Those qualities made her a snake.

“How agreeable it would be if we manipulated him into thinking that the plan was his all along?” Severus smirked.

“I am counting on it,” Lucius returned in kind.

——————————————

“Minerva, my dear, I do not know what you want me to do,” Albus Dumbledore smiled kindly at the woman before him.

“Think of a way to keep her safe, Albus,” she pleaded. “You have blood wards on Mister Potter, is there nothing similar we can do for her? You and I know He will never leave her alone. Not now that he has her scent.”

“Unfortunately, my dear, Harry’s blood wards were made possibly by maternal sacrifice of the high caliber,” the old man sighed, eyes twinkling all the time, teasing the professor. 

“I do not think her mother would do anything of the sort,” the proud woman retorted. “She is a horrid thing. I cannot understand how people can treat their own child so poorly. Do not get me started on Mister Potter’s relations, either, Albus.”

“Minerva, you must understand,” he explained, making Minerva felt like a student once more. “The particular wards around Harry needs his blood family to ‘protect’ him for a month or so a year. It cannot be a surrogate or magically influenced ‘blood’ bond, either. Only the original would work in Harry’s case. It is ancient, complex magic.”

“Yes, Albus,” Minerva sighed, fighting the temptation to slip and call him ‘Professor.’ “We have been debating this for a decade. However, I am not speaking of Mister Potter, but of Miss Granger. How do we protect her, now that she is a future target?”

The man leaned back into his chair, fingers folded neatly upon his desk. Baby blue eyes continued to twinkle, maddeningly so if Minerva were to be honest. He had a scheme. Always a plan, and how he had been in Gryffindor always mystified the woman. Albus Dumbledore knew how to plan and scheme like the sneakiest Slytherin. It always kept her on edge.

“Are you going to tell me what it is?” She raised a brow.

“My dear, Minerva, I know not what you speak of,” he benignly smiled.

“Excuse me if I do not take you on your word,” her amused answer.

“Ah, you know me so well,” Albus Dumbledore chuckled. “Yes, there is indeed a plan. Something I heard somewhere, that may protect Miss Granger from both her parents and Him.”

“That sounds too good to be true,” she retorted, doubt evident in her voice.

“Ah, there are several interesting stipulations, and the exact procedure is a little on the side of grey,” his eyes continued to twinkle. It took everything Minerva had to not twitch. “I have one willing participant, but I am in need of two. I do not know whom else to ask. At least, not one whom meets my standards.”

“I’m afraid to ask where you got this idea and what you intend to do to the poor child,” she sighed.

“Unfortunately, I cannot tell you unless you agree to be an active participant. The less who know the specifics the better, especially with Tom,” Albus smiled, eyes glittering knowingly.

“And what would you need of me?” she asked, hesitant. 

She knew the slippery slopes Albus made to draw people into his plans and schemes. Minerva’s mind warned her that she had already fallen into his trap by simply asking. Curiosity and pride often had strange ways of ensuring an unsuspecting victim to one of the headmaster’s scheme. Whether as harmless as a ball or as large as hiding the savior of the wizarding world with a pair of horrible muggles, Minerva had been taken in more than once by his twinkling, blue eyes. A sick twist of her stomach told her that he had done just that once more.

“As both you and Severus have reported to me, she has made some rather creative threats against Hermione, even blocking her post for a time, if I am correct,” the silver haired man began. She simply nodded. “I looked into the legalities of these claims she makes. Did you know that, by magical tradition and law, all muggle-borns are technically seen as orphans in the eyes of the law?” No she did not. 

“You see, magical law only binds and applies to those of magical blood. As muggle-borns are often the first of their line with magic, their parents completely without, that means that they have no guardians, legally,” Albus explained. “Muggle-born parents are often heard, though not always heeded, as a kind of de facto guardian. Now, all muggle-borns are legally the wards of Hogwarts and myself, yet, there is a year gap between the age of majority between muggle and magical worlds, leaving Miss Hermione open to manipulation for that year.”

While Minerva knew that Hogwarts took responsibility for all muggle-borns, she did not quite think through the reason why. These children had parents. Would that not count for anything? It did, even if not all the time. Her scrunched features spoke to her confusion. What did this have to do with Albus’ plan to protect the girl? 

“Ah, you see, the devil is in the details, as muggles say,” Albus beamed. “As a magical orphan, with no blood ties to the wizarding world, muggle-borns have the unique advantage of being flexible; any magical line can claim them for their own, binding the magical portion to their name. In magic and essence, it gives said muggle-born a set of magical parents.”

“Wait a moment, Albus,” Minerva gasped, mind reeling with the information. “Why has no one done this before? If one could simply adopt a muggle-born and continue their line… Would the child even be ‘muggle-born’ in the eyes of the law?”

“That is quite the interesting question,” his smile widened. “Said child would be, in the most literal sense, muggle-born. Her parents were muggle and gave birth to her. However, all magical records and forms of identification would say otherwise. For all intent and purposes, he or she would no longer be ‘muggle-born.’”

“That is simply amazing,” she muttered, leaning back as she observed the man before her. “You haven’t answered my question, though, Albus.”

“Ah, you see, this is the sticky situation,” he mused. “You see, for centuries, pure blood families used this method of adoption to bring in new blood, but pass them off as magically pure. Over the last century or so, since Gellert began his ascent to power, this practice dwindled until it stopped all together by the time young Tom attended Hogwarts. Since it is blood magic, though of a more benign sort.”

“That explains why it is no longer in use,” she sighed. “It has been labeled as ‘dark magic.’”

“Yes, the ministry had been quite over zealous with it’s decrees in regards to those destructive arts,” Albus shook his head sadly. “However, I am sure we can find some records, perhaps the actual ritual itself. I am simply looking for a woman, since I already have a willing father-figure volunteer.”

“You don’t say,” she wryly chuckled. “Let me guess, she must be able to keep a secret, occlude her mind, and want nothing but the best for Miss Granger. Of course, you want it to be someone who at least could appear neutral, and it must be someone with whom you have a good discourse with. This woman must be willing to work with the paternal figure, and protect the girl as her own, I take it.”

“Why, Minerva, you took the words right out of my mouth,” he exclaimed, arms wide open as his smile.

_Yes, yes, of course I did,_ she resisted the urge to shake the man. Instead, she opted to roll her eyes and gaze into the grounds. Much to her surprise, the deputy headmistress did not oppose to the idea of being a surrogate mother for the child. From the weekly meetings for the past month or two, she realized that her home life was far from ideal. She often felt outraged and protective, and supposed that would be suitable for the job. A hand pinched the bridge of her nose, as air rushed out of her lungs. She had, indeed, walked straight into the trap set for her.

“I suppose you had a candidate in mind,” she sighed. 

“Why, I thought you would never ask,” he positively glowed with excitement. _Dear Circe, what have I done?_ Minerva warily questioned. “I had hoped that, perhaps, you would be interested in helping protect Miss Granger.”

“As if I could say no,” she retorted dryly. 

“Wonderful,” he clapped, “Now that is sorted, lemon drop?”

She merely raised brow and left the office.

——————————————

Deep in concentration, Hermione’s quill scribbled upon the her parchment, taking notes from a charms book. Tongue sticking out, brow furrowed, hand spotted with ink, the Slytherin buried herself in work to try and block out the sinister, cold voice of the night before. Logic dictated that the creature, what remained of Him, could not hurt her right now. If unicorn blood was the one thing sustaining it, the thing could not hurt her.

Of course, that didn’t make her stop jumping at shadow. Or loud noises. Or the Weasley twins. Really, that one she almost felt bad. One of them, she couldn’t tell which, decided to launch something at her. Within a moment, the thing stop, zoomed straight back to them, and she had them both in a body bind, cream pie on their faces.

Okay. Maybe she didn’t feel so bad about that.

She did snap at Millie earlier, after Transfiguration, and she nearly hexed the boy who called her mudblood in a cold, sibilant voice. She knew Draco worried about her, and Annalie had her under activity arrest. It wasn’t her fault an evil dark lord decided Hermione would be a perfect target!

“Granger,” a voice surprised her. She jerked to the side, shooting a leg-locker jinx, eyes wide as she saw Potter sanding a few feet away. 

“Dear lord, what in the name of Salazar do you want?” She gasped, clutching her heart before muttering the counter-curse. 

“S-sorry, probably should have approached you from the front,” he mumbled.

“You think?” she snorted.

“About that, I just wanted to say sorry,” he ground out. “About last night. I-I didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Potter, don’t go playing hero for me,” she wryly retorted. “My own clumsiness resulted in me falling down.”

“What about… him?” the Boy-Who-Lived dropped his voice to a whisper. Hermione, not amused nor in a particularly receptive mood simply lifted a brow, disinterest and annoyance in her stare. “You-Know-Who. He went up to you and said stuff.”

“Look, I don’t care what you think about me, my House, my friends, or my family, but let’s get one thing clear,” she whispered, venom painting her voice. “I don’t want Him coming back.”

Surprised by the declaration, the black haired boy blinked at her a few times. He couldn’t quite comprehend what just happened. Every encounter with this girl ended in insults and taunts, mean spirited and childish. However, he recalled that most of those were instigated or directed at Ron. Neville and Granger were on first name basis, something that had always mystified the boy. Yet, he had seen her more than once at a table comprising of all the houses.

“I believe you,” he breathed after a moment of thought.

“Good, now if you don’t mind, I’m writing an essay here,” she sighed, rubbing her eyes. 

“R-right,” Potter mumbled before walking away, confused. 

“You okay?” her best friend asked as he emerged from the shadows.

“Tired,” she sighed. “I probably should turn in early tonight, huh?”

“With your essay due in three weeks barely written?” Draco asked in mock horror. “Who are you, and what have you done with Hermione?”

She giggled, shaking her head as she packed up her materials. They made small talk all the way back to the dungeons. Their meaningless nothings filled the air, laughter and smiled a veneer covering the fear from the night before. Hermione sat with her friends by the fire, reading a book about something dry while everyone else spoke and laughed. She’d add her token thoughts, banter with whomever challenged her, and, for the most part, acted as if nothing were wrong.

As the group of first year Slytherins broke apart for the night, Hermione lingering by the warmth of the dying fire, she found herself face to face with her mentor. Annalie knelt down and simply looked at her. At that moment, all the emotions she tried to hide away began to leak out. Afraid to show weakness, she grabbed the older girl and slipped behind Melinda’s portrait to the now comfy (thanks to a house elf) alcove.

Throwing her arms around her mentor, Hermione cried until she had no more tears, holding on for dear life. 

“I’m scared,” she whispered quietly. “I don’t want him back.”

“Shh, my little snake, no one will get you,” the older girl cooed. “Not in the viper pit. If nothing else, being Slytherins against the world have made our bonds strong. Even a snake who doesn’t like you will not let harm come to a fellow snake.”

“I don’t think that’s how this will work,” Hermione murmured. “Not this time.”

“There are more people protecting you than you know,” Annalie whispered, reveling in the act of comforting her, as she would a sister. “I was so worried when Draco came last night saying you were in the Hospital Wing. He wouldn’t say anything, and dragged me as fast as he could. You are both brave, but don’t let that get to your head.”

“I-I tried to get away,” Hermione sighed, loosening her grip though still leaning against the older girl. “But I got hurt and couldn’t move well, so we hid the best we could.” 

“Hair that bright is hard to hide in the dark, though,” the older girl smirked.

Hermione laughed and, for the first time since that morning, felt like everything would turn out alright in the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who is commenting! I always enjoy reading them and try to answer as much as possible. 
> 
> Right now, I am setting a lot of ground work. I know that this may be too plot heavy, and that I may not be writing 11-12 year olds well, but I am trying. I hope that you guys enjoy this chapter and continue to read. :)


	14. Plans and Preparation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the year draws closer to the end, everyone is in a flurry of activity. Gryffindors, Professors, and Slytherins alike work while within the eye of the storm.

“Again,” Annalie barked at her bushy haired first year. 

For several weeks, the blonde fifth year drilled Hermione in everything from proper form of walking to spells and jinxes. Today, they worked on traditional wizarding dances, which resembled those Hermione often saw in the period pieces her care taker enjoyed. Unlike ballroom forms, the choreography of this style confused Hermione, more complex as a group dance than individual couples.

Three days after the Forbidden Forest Incident, as Millie took to calling it, Annalie cracked down on their lessons as a form of punishment. “If you have enough energy to lose points and confront evil wizards, I’m doing something wrong,” her simple, no-nonsense explanation. Much to Hermione’s amusement, Jeremy decided to drag Draco into these lessons.

At this moment, the boys were in a separate study room within the dungeons, leaving the girls to their dance practice. Between these harder lessons, school work, and muggle work, Hermione found little energy to do anything. Just the way Annalie and the professors liked it. 

“And that is it for now, Hermione,” her mentor nodded. “Come here, and show me your assigned journal entry.” 

Hermione nodded as she shifted through her bag for her Slytherin diary. She decided, with the ability to add and subtract pages as needed, Hermione could put all her most important thoughts, notes, and entries into the book. She inquired into a privacy spell a few days, and Annalie instructed her to make a comprehensive summary of anti-theft and privacy spells. 

“Here you go, Annalie,” she smiled, settling down next to the older girl.

“Wonderful, now tell me, what could you potentially protect with these jinxes?” Annalie asked.

“My homework for one,” the girl snorted. “I think a color changing jinx would be perfect for that,” she grinned. “And probably personal belongings, like jewelry and books.”

“Very good,” Annalie grinned. “Of course, the severity of the curse would depend on the importance of the object. For instance, a hair color jinx that lasts a week is good for something like homework or notes, but for your favorite necklace or bracelet, you’d use something to stun or completely impede the person from taking them.”

“If you’re really creative,” Hermione mused aloud. “You can somehow make it so the object ‘obeys’ you.”

“Go on,” Annalie motioned, encouraging her protege’s creative side.

“For instance, if the bracelet was in the shape of a snake, one could charm it so the bracelet knows the ‘owner’s’ magic. When the owner does something, say snap, it could activate the ‘snake,’ and do something to the person,” Hermione thought. “I mean, it doesn’t mean much if the person got away, but what if you wanted to dare them to do so? Use said enchantment as a way to punish and embarrass the thief.”

“Oh? What would a metal snake be able to do that would embarrass someone?” Annalie pushed, intrigued by the idea.

“Dunno, mild truth serum or a mild poison. Something that would make the owner clear,” Hermione shrugged at the half thought idea.

“Interesting idea, little snake,” the older girl ruffled Hermione’s brown mane. “It’s an promising prospect that needs a bit of polishing. Now run along. That’s enough for one day.”

“See you,” Hermione chirped as she left the room for the library.

Earlier that day, Neville had cornered Hermione after potions. He wanted to meet her at the back of the library, hoping that no one would over hear them. The pudgy Gryffindor held doubts and fear for his friends, and wanted to talk to the clever brunette about them. Hermione assured him that, after Annalie’s lesson, she would be free. A distracted thought swirled into her head. _Maybe this is about Potter’s hero complex._

At their normal group study table, situated as far from Madam Pince as possible, Hermione found Neville fidgeting. His eyes darted as his fingers curled and uncurled, as if not sure what it wanted to do. Hermione’s mind reeled, cataloging the details within seconds before she made her presence known.

“Hey, Neville,” she smiled at the boy.

“H-Hi, Hermione,” he tried to smile, failing miserably.

“What’s the matter?” Hermione asked, a slight frown on her face. 

As she rounded the corner, the rest of the table appeared. A displaced Potter, grumbling Weasel, and resigned Patil sat at the other half of the table. Understanding dawned on Hermione, her mask allowing only a raised eyebrow at the scene before her. Four Gryffindors wanted her advice on something. Her high marks were less than a secret. That did not mean she enjoyed being requisitioned for her brain. She took a neutral stance, face unreadable as her eyes took in the lion cubs before her.

“Neville, would you please explain?” Hermione turned from the golden trio, tilting her head at her nervous friend.

“Y-you see, they want to do something reckless,” Neville began. “And they have no clue what they are up against. I-I just thought that you may have an idea, or be able to help them.”

Thoughts flew through her mind a mile a minute, unable to keep a single train for more than a second. She could only imagine what they would want with her. However, from the grave face and solemnity in their eyes, she knew it to be important. Heck, if Weasley sat there quiet and not insulting her for once, it had to be something major. 

“What do you want, what are your terms, and what do I get out of this?” Hermione asked, crossing her arms. 

Neville, she trusted. He put in a good word with Gryffindors, got Lavender to join their little groups, and brought much valued information to her ears. He helped her form the little inter-house study group that generated as much gossip as it did results. His friends, on the other hand, couldn’t be further from the truth. Potter and Patil behaved normally, but Weasley was a right nightmare.

“I told you she’d want something,” Weasley hissed at Potter. Patil eyed her, wary and unsure. “She’s a bleeding Slytherin, Harry! We can’t trust her!”

“Yeah, a Slytherin that wants Voldemort gone,” he whispered back.

“I don’t care if she was Dumbledore’s daughter, I don’t want to work with a sneaky snake,” the red head grunted.

“We can’t afford to not use our resources,” the Boy-Who-Lived reasoned.

A brow rose, intrigued by the sudden Slytherin moment. Very few Gryffindors would have the mind to make the most of any opportunity. It appeared that the golden boy had a bit of green in him. Hermione continued to listen to the two, eyes never leaving the three unknowns.

“Look, Granger, we don’t like you anymore than you like us,” Patil finally huffed, ignoring Weasley’s outcry. “But Harry seems to think you can help us with a little task we want to do.”

“What would be so important that you would hazard working with the Slytherin muggle?” Hermione asked, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“We can’t tell you that,” Potter stared at her, intense eyes boring into her honey pair. “Not until you agree to help us.”

“And before I decide to help you, I want to know what you expect of me, what you want, and what I’ll get out of it,” Hermione stated once more.

“It’s okay you guys,” Potter murmured to his three friends, eyeing Hermione. “We planned for this. Kind of.” 

Hermione exchanged glances with Neville, who appeared apologetic for their behavior. She gave him a small, amused smile, before turning back to the trio on the other side of the table. They did not realize she could hear their whispering. At least, Weasley didn’t appear to know or care.

“It’s like this, we want you to help us research what obstacles we would have in our way,” Potter stated, taking a deep breath before continuing. “If you want to join us for the operation, you are more than welcome to come. As for what you get, well…”

“A favor,” Hermione said, inspiration striking her. “I want one favor from you, Potter.”

“Harry, that’s a bad idea,” Weasley murmured, eyes wide.

“I agree with Ron for once, Harry,” Patil nodded, worry plain as day in her eyes.

“Would you like some stipulations on that favor?” Hermione sighed, knowing that this would limit her in the future. She’d work with it, though, as a true Slytherin does. “I understand your reservations, but if you are as much in need as you seem to believe…”

The sentence hung in the air, unfinished and teasing. Tension filled the air, silence reigned supreme for a few moments. Rustling came from the shelf behind her, and Hermione knew someone, or several someones, were hiding and listening. A quick glance revealed a flash of blonde and black. _Millie and Draco, probably checking on me and wondering what’s taking so long,_ Hermione mused. _All the better to scheme with._

“We’ll take it,” Potter announced, ignoring the indigent sounds of his friends. “We need her help, she wants Him gone as much as we do, and all that’s left is to get her to help us!”

Deep down, Hermione knew that it wasn’t that simple. Whatever, or however, that thing kept itself alive was not permanent. Yet, the resilience needed to stay alive, to get to this point, spoke only of the beginning, not the end, of a conflict. While the thought chilled her to the bone, she much rather Him gone, and if this would at least stall Him from coming back, then she would help.

“Excellent. If you will, I’m going to get a piece of parchment and a couple friends,” Hermione announced, loud enough for Millie and Draco to hear. “If you cannot see, I am out numbered, four to one. I will bring back two of my friends, you will still have more Gryffindors, we’ll draw up an agreement, and go from there. Is that acceptable?”

She observed all the Gryffindors at the table, looking for any disagreement. None were voiced, though the lovely shade of red on Weasley clashed with his hair wonderfully, in Hermione’s humble opinion. Neville nodded, sitting on one side of the table to play mediator. Her feet carried her around the corner where she saw her friends. A wink and nod later, they followed her, silent and swift, pausing a few shelves down.

“So, what do you think?” Hermione whispered.

“Are you really going to do this?” Millie asked, worry in her chocolate eyes.

“I… Yes,” Hermione nodded. “If there is something I can do to get Him away from me, I’ll do it.”

“What do you mean?” Millie asked, “They never said what they wanted your help with.”

“Really, Millie, even I could connect the dots,” Draco sighed, leaning casually against some Transfiguration books. 

“It’s about the sorcerer’s stone,” Hermione nodded. “They want to know how to get to it, so they can head off whoever is after the thing, and if they don’t…”

“The person will be able to restore Him to life and power,” Draco finished, his face taunt with worry.

“If this is what you want, Hermione,” Millie took a deep breath. “Then, I support you.”

“Thank you,” she smiled, small and weak, as she embraced her oldest friend, before turning to the blonde, unspoken question in her eyes.

“Fine,” he pouted. “I don’t like working with them, but if it keeps you safe, I’ll do it.”

Hermione gave him a quick, tight hug, thanking the boy just as much. She pulled herself away and started to walk away, bag on her shoulder, to meet the Gryffindors once more. When they saw Draco and Millie, Weasley’s face turned colors and Potter tensed. With a small nod and smile at Neville, Hermione and her snakes sat across from the lions.

“So, I have Millie and Draco with me,” Hermione stated the obvious. “For the sake of making this go as quickly as we can, let’s get down to business.”

“Agreed,” Potter nodded, reluctantly taking his eyes off the blonde. 

“Really, Potter, I’m not going to bite,” Draco drawled, enjoying their discomfort.

A gentle hand on his arm brought him back to the situation at hand, watching his muggle-born friend. Millie simply leaned back in her chair and watched the spectacle unfold. By the end of their ‘negotiations,’ they agreed that Hermione would assist with their project, provide them information, and, if she wanted to, accompany them on their execution. In exchange, Potter would be bound to a favor, which could not be to harm himself or his friends. Easy enough, and really, quite a bit more liberating. 

“So then, I believe it is time to fill me in on your side of the details,” Hermione stated as she placed the quill down and tapped the parchment. 

“Our side of the details? What do you mean?” Patil fidgeted, unable to look Hermione in the eyes.

“Obviously, you lot want to protect the Sorcerer’s Stone from Him,” Hermione said matter-of-factly. “You believe Snape is working for the Him, most likely due to your Gryffindor judgmental deductions, and want us to try and spy on him as well as gather information.”

The four Gryffindors stared, stunned at Hermione’s presentation of facts. They could not believe she knew so much, surprise and shock evident in their faces. Hermione just kept the bemused smirk off her face, opting to watch them all in turn. Next to her, Draco sniggered quietly, not taking measures to hide his feelings on the matter.

“I know it is a lot to take in,” Millie smirked. “It is hard to remember that we can deduce and solve puzzles, too, with Vince and Greg in our House, but really, did you lot think you were the only ones to put these pieces together?”

“W-well,” Potter stuttered, still off balance. “Yeah.”

“Wonderful,” Hermione rolled her eyes. “Let’s put it this way, you want to get into a highly protected area of this castle, in a forbidden corridor, to protect this stone, and you want us to go through and help you devise a strategy to get past these tests?”

“That’s the general idea,” Patil gulped, not liking the power shift.

“Wonderful,” Hermione clapped once. “It’s decided. I’ll get working on my ideas and give them to Neville next study group. Anything else we need to know?”

“I-I don’t think so,” A still stunned Potter stammered.

“Excellent, well then,” she stood, copied the agreement, rolled up her set, and went to leave, friends flanking her.

“How did she know?” Weasley hissed. “Isn’t that too convenient?”

“I-I don’t now,” Potter shook his head. 

“Does it really matter?” Neville asked, nerves showing. “She wants Him gone, and will help you now.”

“I know, but it’s just weird. I don’t like it,” Weasley muttered. “I don’t like it at all.”

——————————————

Severus walked into Dumbledore’s office several months after his last talk with Lucius. Imagine his surprise when he saw Minerva sitting there, back straight, lips in a grim line. A curt nod as acknowledgement between the professors, and then he sat himself in the other, leaning back. The headmaster’s eye sparkled as he eyed the pair before him.

“What is it you wanted to speak to us about, Albus?” Minerva’s crisp voice broke the silence.

“That is the question, isn’t it?” He mused before he dove into the subject. “About a month ago, we had a startling incident occur with your students. The safety of several of them came into question, and, after a month of research, I have found a way to keep at least one of them safe.”

Severus nearly snorted. Found a way, indeed. Lucius had the answer in his library for the past several centuries. The old man simply took a while to decide if this agreed with his ‘moral’ compass. However, the potions master held back the thought and listened to the old man once more.

“As you know, blood adoptions have been, shall we say, out of style for some time now. However, after going through a myriad of possibilities and ideas, which have lead to dead ends, I believe this is the most prudent and long lasting option,” Albus said, eyes twinkling all the while. “I found the original ritual, and believe that I am correct in saying that you, both, would have able to perform it.”

“I am to believe this is for Miss Granger,” Minerva asked.

“Indeed it is, Minerva, my dear,” he beamed. “I know the both of you have taken a liking to the young lady, as well as have seen the conditions she grew up in. It is my belief that you are the ideal candidates to be her magical parents.”

Minerva simply raised a brow as she glanced at Severus. He didn’t need legilimency to see the doubt and distaste in her face. Gryffindors, even when they can occlude their minds, cannot keep the emotions out of their eyes or facial features. He knew that Albus would chose Minerva, in fact, he counted on it. Face carefully neutral, he kept his dark eyes upon the headmaster.

“No questions thus far?” The headmaster asked, eyes bright and alive. “Wonderful! Now all that remains is the preparation, and of course, asking Miss Granger her opinion on the whole matter. We cannot be performing this ceremony without her consent. It keeps prospective families from kidnapping and binding unsuspecting children, you see.”

“That is rather considerate for a blood ritual,” Minerva wryly remarked.

“Indeed, it is. Created by Salazar himself, I believe,” Albus answered with a smile. “Despite current reputation, his spells were noble for the most part. He recognized the ‘exception’ to the rule, if you will.” 

“Now then, if Miss Granger agrees, the ritual will be performed the weekend after exams, that way no one is stressed or harried,” Albus beamed. “Until then, there are some components. Severus, would you be able to pull some strings and get everything on this list?”

“Of course, sir,” the potions master nodded.

“Wonderful,” he clapped and turned towards the transfiguration mistress. “Minerva, you have a question. Please ask it.”

“Well, I am curious to know what the ritual actually entails,” she inquired, eyes still wary and suspicious. 

“Ah, it is quite interesting, you see,” blue eyes beamed, delighted by the question. “First, there is a potion that must be brewed. I gave Severus the instructions and ingredients and he shall take care of it. It starts with an incantation, and then both surrogate parents will put a touch of blood in it. Worry not, it is nothing more than a bit of blood, you won’t even be dizzy. Then, a spell is performed as the potion is stirred to it’s finished state. Some vows are exchanged between the two of you and the one who presides over the whole affair, before it ends with Miss Granger taking a vow and drinking the completed potion.”

_That is rather simple for such an ancient ritual,_ Minerva mused to herself as she leaned into the chair. Interesting did define the adoption ritual, as did arcane and a bit distasteful. Blood rituals never were a favorite of her’s, but she supposed it not distasteful to use this type. She heaved a sigh and glanced at her soon to be ‘co-parent.’ This would be interesting.

“When do you plan on asking the girl?” Severus asked at last.

“Ah, we should do that soon,” Albus hummed. “During spring holidays sound like a wonderful time. She is signed up to stay, is she not?”

“She is on my list,” the professor nodded. 

“Good, then we shall ask her together then,” he nodded. “Hopefully, with this adoption, her life will take a turn for the best. Now, the real question is, do we tell her parents?”

“No,” Severus answered quickly and without remorse. “She deserves no such nicety. She shall just be told that she has no legal hold over the child when she makes a fuss. As you say, the less who know the better. We wouldn’t want Him to know.”

“Good point, Severus,” the old man nodded. “No need to make it public knowledge. She shall retain her muggle last name. I do, believe, however, that there are some people who should be there to witness the event, do not you think? I do know that she will at least tell her best friends. She will need magical godparents as well. Do think on it.”

With a smile and wave, the silver haired headmaster dismissed his two most trusted professors. They nodded and went their opposite ways to think upon the man’s words. Severus had all the required ingredients and specific tools to make the potion from Lucius. Cold clicks of his heels echoed down the hall as he descended into the dungeons to start on his task. Severus already knew who his choice for godfather.

——————————————

“Tell me again, why are we helping them?” Draco grumbled for the umpteenth time that day as Hermione pored over their herbology book.

“Because I get, essentially, a free favor from Potter, very few and easy to manipulate strings attached,” Hermione hummed, jotting down a few ideas on a parchment next to her. “And you don’t need to help, you know. I’m the only one contractually obligated to help the Gryffindorks.”

“I just don’t see the point,” Millie moaned.

“It’s called self preservation,” Hermione rolled her eyes. “Are you Slytherins or not?”

Millie winced as Draco rolled his eyes with a dramatic sigh. They settled back to their research. If Dumbledore had any sense, which, Hermione conceded, he must have some, he would make sure his best professors protected the stone. From her list of professors who could’ve helped, she crossed off the divination, arithmancy, muggle studies, and ancient runes professors. How would a crystal ball protect anything?

That left McGonagall, Snape, Quirrell, Flitwick, and Sprout, along with whatever trick Dumbledore had up his sleeve. Hermione had a feeling she knew what the old headmaster planned on, if her research was any indication. Her final copy, completed a week or so later, read:

_Below are a list of the possible obstacles, both known and conjectured. I included the most likely candidates to add an ‘obstacle’ or ‘test,’ if you will. Before you ask, the only subject not listed is Ancient Runes, as I believe that would not be nearly probable of a subject used to defend the stone. In addition, the runes professor is relatively new, and not as trusted as the below mentioned staff and their protective measures._

_1.) Hagrid - Fluffy; Subdue fluffy with music, maybe charm a harp or flute to play._

_2.) Sprout - Dangerous Plant; most likely Devil’s snare. She said she got a large specimen this past summer and won’t tell us where. Use fire to make it let go of you in a pinch. As long as you relax and don’t move, it will ‘swallow’ you to the next stage._

_3.) Flitwick - Something charmed; You know Flitwick is playful and fun. I’m sure it will be something with details, be observant!_

_4.) McGonagall - Something that requires thought. You won’t have to transfigure anything, that’d be too easy. She’ll force you to analyze and strategize, use your brain. She’s a smart, clever witch who will challenge you. Think of it like a chess match. Actually, look up chess strategies; that can be applied in more ways than one._

_5.) Quirrell - Who knows? Maybe a troll for all we know. Just be careful and make sure that you know some counter hexes and jinxes. You don’t want to be unprepared. Practice!_

_6.) Snape - Potions; Snape will make you think, too, but he’s tricky. As a Slytherin, he will hide the answer in plain sight, give you convoluted but true clues, and you’ll have to use your brain from there. Good luck Patil._

_7.) Dumbledore - Mirror of Erised; From my research, this mirror is just what Dumbledore would use, especially since my informants heard it is inside the castle. The trick is that it shows you want you desire. Knowing Dumbledore, that won’t be enough. He’ll want to keep it from someone who wants the stone, but doesn’t want it trapped forever. If my logic and research is sound, it should appear to someone who simply wants the stone for no other reason than to have it. Anyone who wants the stone for their own or other’s use cannot retrieve the object. This is working under the assumption that You-Know-Who is a selfish creature by nature, and, therefore, cannot imagine simply having an object for no other reason than to have it. Every object must be used, thus He could not, theoretically, get the stone._

_Notes: That is all I’ve got for you. If you need any other research done, deliver the request through Neville, and I’ll do it. I have upheld my side of the bargain, just remember your’s when the time comes._

Hermione read and reread the parchment several times before she nodded. Using her black wax, she sealed the letter and pushed a plan seal on it. With a self satisfied nod, she placed the letter into her bag for her study session later, before leaning back into her chair. A sigh rushed out of her lungs, eyes closing of their own accord. A few minutes wouldn’t hurt, right?

And so Hermione drifted off into a light doze with the grumbling and mumbling of her friends in the background, lulling her into a feeling of safety.

——————————————

Neville delivered the sealed parchment to Harry after the study session, one of the last before the spring holiday. Once they got to the common room, the group of four sat huddled by one of the couches. Most of the older students were outside or studying in the library, leaving the warm, comfy common room empty. 

“So, what are you going to do?” Ron muttered, obviously nervous. “She’s a snake, you can’t trust them. How do you know it’s not hexed? That’s the kind of thing they teach Slytherins, right?”

“But she said she wouldn’t hex it,” Harry argued, fingering the sealed parchment.

“Hermione is true to her word if you are,” Neville defended his friend. “She said she wouldn’t hex or jinx it or anything, right? And I touched it without so much as a paper cut.”

“But what if she did that just for you? She doesn’t like us,” the red head sneered.

“She doesn’t like you, because you’re mean to her,” Neville stuttered back.

“There’s nothing on it,” Pavarti announced, having performed a spell while the boys were arguing. “My mum taught me before I came to school just in case.”

“See? She didn’t hex it,” Neville stuck his tongue out and turned back to Harry.

“Merlin,” the black haired boy breathed as he looked at her list. “No wonder she’s top of our class.”

“Even you can’t deny this is useful, Ron,” Pavarti hummed in agreement as she read next to Harry.

“Merlin, she even guessed what some of the tasks might be based on their personality and temperament,” Neville blinked, impressed with his friend.

“And she knows about the mirror,” Harry gasped at the last defense mentioned. “She knows how it works, what it does, even what to do to retrieve the stone and why someone looking to steal it would never be able to under normal circumstances!” 

“How in Merlin’s name does she know that?” Pavarti stammered, deeply impressed with her Slytherin counterpart. 

“I-I don’t know,” Harry murmured. 

“Blimey, no wonder You-Know-Who almost won last time,” Ron breathed. “Slytherins are scary! If this is what one girl can do, imagine what a whole army can pull off!” 

“Thank Circe that she’s on our side,” Neville whispered as he sank down into a cushy chair.

“For now,” Ron muttered darkly.

——————————————

“Have a good spring hols,” Hermione grinned at her friends.

“Enjoy the castle and common room all to yourself,” Millie beamed, hugging her friend tight for a moment.

“I will, don’t worry about me,” the curly haired witch smiled.

“You know you could have come over,” Annalie ruffled her hair.

“I know, but I think a quiet holiday will be quite the nice change,” Hermione said. “I haven’t had one in a long time.”

“I can only imagine,” the older girl snorted.

“Hey there, kiddo,” Gina grinned as she sauntered over. “Hold down the fort, will ya?”

“No outsiders will be in Slytherin House if I can help it,” Hermione mock saluted the older girl. 

“That’s a good firstie,” she chuckled before striding out the common room.

As the dorm cleared of most of the Slytherins, Hermione sat in her favorite chaise, reading a book. For some reason, Draco decided to stay as well. He said his parents owled him the news that they were in France for the holiday and wished him to stay with his godfather, who happened to be the potions professor. 

It was far too much of a coincidence, rousing Hermione’s suspicion. However, she liked the elder Malfoys, and, didn’t worry too much about the reason. Perhaps they thought she would be lonely and would need a companion? Whatever the reason, she silently thanked them. Well, maybe not right now, with Draco whining about how it was so quiet and how bored he was.

“I mean, what is there to do?” he sighed, dramatic and loud. 

“You could fly,” she ground out. “Or we can study, do our holiday homework. Of course, we could just explore the castle.”

He sat up straight, eyes gleaming with mischief at the last suggestion. Why hadn’t he thought of it? Draco grabbed Hermione, who groaned at the sudden activity, before flying out the common room. Before either of them could get past the potions laboratory, their black clad head of house emerged from his office.

“Draco, Miss Granger,” he nodded at the students.

“Hello, Professor,” she smiled at the dark wizard.

“Hi, Uncle Sev,” the boy chirped, a matching grin on his face.

“And what are you two up to?” Severus raised an eyebrow.

“Just exploring the castle,” Hermione answered.

“Very well, do be careful, of course,” he nodded, “And Miss Granger, you have a meeting in Professor Dumbledore’s office at three. Do be on time. The password for now is ‘sherbet lemon.’ Do watch out for Peeves.”

The two stunned Slytherins wandered up the stairs and towards the grand staircase in stunned silence. Neither had ever seen the man act so openly kind or, well, not horribly cold. Draco, after a moment, declared that he remembered those types of moments when he visited the manor and took care of him. Hermione, however, simply took his word for it.

“Uncle Sev is just strict and serious,” Draco shrugged. “He doesn’t talk about the past much, but he does take good care of me. He’s not mean, not once you get to know him.”

“He did try to protect me from my mum when he was in charge of my meetings,” Hermione nodded her head.

“Is she still threatening you with taking away your magic?” Draco raised a brow as they climbed to the fourth floor.

“Not this week,” Hermione chuckled. “I believe her words were, ‘if you do not tame that mess that you call hair, you will never find a man willing to touch you, and Lord knows where I’ll be.’”

“Shows her what she knows,” Draco snorted, thinking about the fact the he liked his friend’s hair very much. It looked wild, but in actuality felt soft and smooth as silk. “Well, hopefully we can figure out a way to keep you safe from her. I know that Father has been working on it since Christmas hols.” 

“That’s very sweet of your family, Draco, but you don’t need to go through that trouble for me,” Hermione chuckled as they rounded a seldom used corridor. 

Her hair swung back and forth as she peered inside empty classrooms and abandoned offices. Draco scowled behind her, shaking his head as he peered into each room for a moment, before following her a step or so behind.

“It’s not sweet, Hermione,” the boy sighed. “We protect our own, like I’ve said countless times.”

“Well, I still think it is kind of the,” Hermione persisted, sticking her tongue out at the boy.

“Girls and their ‘sweet’ and ‘good’ and ‘cute,’” the boy sighed.

“I heard that,” Hermione exclaimed. 

“You were supposed to,” he retorted.

So they continued to explore the fourth floor, easy banter flowing between the pair. As three o’clock came around, they found their way back to the main staircases, discussing the things they found, how they barely dodged Peeves, and everything in between. As they approached turned to their separate paths, Draco fixed Hermione with a thoughtful gaze.

“What is it?” She asked after a moment of his scrutiny.

“I’m just wondering what Dumbledore wants with you,” he frowned at his friend.

“I’ll be fine,” she reassured him, patting his arm. “You know professors, probably something mundane, like ‘how are you doing,’ and ‘are you adjusting to the wizarding world well.’”

“Yeah,” he said after a moment. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“See you in a bit,” she called out to him as she climbed the staircase.

Not that she didn’t have her doubts, Hermione knew better than to display them to her friend so openly. He worried a great deal for her, especially after their detention. Hermione hated being a burden on anyone, especially her friends. She feared they would no longer want her around. Her mother poisoned her mind, making her believe that if she were too much trouble, no one would want her.

“Sherbet Lemon,” she recited to the silent gargoyle standing guard outside the headmaster’s office.

A moment of silence and then the stone creature jumped aside, revealing a revolving staircase, much like a muggle escalator. Hermione nodded at the creature, which surprisingly bowed to her, and walked onto the first step as it came around. Within moments, she swirled up to a dark, oak door. She gave a good knock on the door and collected her nerves before a call told her to enter.

“Good afternoon, Miss Granger,” the beaming headmaster greeted her.

“Hello, Professor Dumbledore,” she politely greeted, and added, “Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape.”

“Please sit down, Miss Granger,” Albus instructed the girl, not unkindly. “We have some serious matters to discuss.”

Pushing down her panic, Hermione sat herself on the indicated chair. She tried to recall Annalie’s words. Deep breaths, clear your mind, focus on the task, do not let the information overwhelm you. Yet, how could she not? If it were serious enough that the headmaster himself, her Head of House, and the Deputy Headmistress, it could be her worst nightmare; her mother was pulling her out of Hogwarts, wiping her memory and ending her magic.

“You see, after your accident during your detention, earlier this year, it came to my attention that your safety is at risk,” the headmaster continued, twinkle in his eye. Hermione felt the tension leave her shoulders and neck. “We have reason to believe that a certain dark wizard has taken an unhealthy interest in you. As your legal guardian, I am to address your safety to the best of your ability.”

“Excuse me, sir,” Hermione asked, head tilted to the side, “How are you my legal guardian?”

“Ah, you see, there’s a funny thing,” the headmaster smiled. “As a muggle-born, you have no magical guardians. Thus, the Ministry of Magic has appointed me the legal guardian of, not just you, but all of the muggle-borns in the school. To give you magical protection against this threat, I have taken the liberty of choosing two people who are willing to adopt you, if you will. Unlike muggle adoption, it is rather permanent as it binds the parents-to-be to the child as if they were the birth parents.

“This would, in turn, afford familial wards, safe houses, and a magical lineage to protect you if worse comes to happen,” the jolly, old professor concluded, hands open in front of him.

“I see,” Hermione swallowed, taking in the information like a sponge. Information swam through her mind, quicker than she could comprehend. “So, does that mean I’d still live with my muggle parents?”

“That would be up to you and your new parents,” Dumbledore replied. “I would say yes, to keep up appearances. The less people who know about this change in legal status the better. You see, the method we would use supersede paperwork, automatically registering you within all proper legal and historical sources.”

“Am I to guess that the people you have chosen, and who have agreed, to volunteer to adopt me,” Hermione babbled, trying to control her emotions, “Would be Professors Snape and McGonagall?”

“Indeed, that is my intention,” the man nodded. “That is all for now. At the end of the holiday, I will call you up once more, and we shall make all final decisions then. For now, go, think, and enjoy the rest of your afternoon.”

“Of course, thank you Professor,” Hermione smiled, trying to keep herself together, before leaving the office in search of her best friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to say, I adore everyone who comments to me. Thank you all for making my day! ~_~
> 
> Enjoy your cliff hanger, and until next time. =)


	15. A Change for the Better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione's life changes for the better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so long to update! Between family coming into town, family going out of town, and getting ready for my own vacation, I haven’t had all that much time to write! Thank you all for sticking with me. As always, much love to those who take the time and comment. :)

Hermione sat in the common room, book in her hand, as she stared into the pages. Eyes did not read the printed words that so often have been a comfort to her. Instead, her mind churned like an uneasy sea, storm brewing behind her honey eyes. The rest of the afternoon passed off as normal as possible.

After being thoroughly questioned by Draco, to which she gave no firm answers, they went to Great Hall and ate with the sparse Hogwarts population. She distracted herself, simply talking about anything and everything else. On occasion, he’d try to bring up what the meet was about, but she shoved it to the side, saying she wasn’t quite sure.

Indeed, she couldn’t believe that it happened all together. Even now, three days later, Hermione’s massive mind refused to wrap around the facts presented to her. It was too good to be true. Nice things didn’t happen to her. Yet, here stood a perfectly good, ideal situation. Two professors she respected wanted to _adopt_ her. She didn’t know why.   

Sure, Professor Dumbledore said it would offer her protection. She knew exactly why she would want or need that. It wasn’t just a coincidence that the headmaster proposed this plan, which made it worse. No matter how much she chewed on her lip or fidgeted with her fingers, things Annalie would scold her for, Hermione could not see the why behind it. 

She tried, to the best of her ability, to hide her uneasiness from her friend. They explored the castle and grounds with renewed exuberance, staying indoors on the day it rained. Even now, she had convinced Draco to actually do his school work for once. If she found it odd that he agreed to the boring, bookish scheme without more than a token complaint, Hermione didn’t say anything.

Despite her best efforts, Draco knew something big happened during that meeting on the first day of the holiday. If he didn’t know her so well, perhaps he wouldn’t haven noticed all the little things Hermione did throughout the rest of the week. Yet he saw how she would stare into space and seem to be lost in her own world. At times, he would have to address her a few times in order to catch her attention. Old, nervous habits appeared with more frequency, and it drove him crazy. 

It didn’t take a genius to notice how she averted the topic, talking about something else incessantly or asking a question she knew would get him to speak with animation. It wouldn’t be until later that he would realize that Hermione never actually answered his questions, and it bothered Draco that she didn’t tell him. Whatever it was, he could tell it was eating her up, and he just wanted to help. 

As they sat in the common room alone, he watched her stare off into her charms book. Face blank, eyes distant, she nibbled on her lower lip as if contemplating a particularly complex problem. With a sudden animation, he watched as she took one of the quills he gave her, and wrote on her stationary.  

His curiosity rose with each flourished stroke. Hermione appeared possessed with how quick she went. By the time she finished, Draco dropped all pretenses of doing his charms work, which he figured he might as well do.  

“I’ll be right back,” Hermione shouted as she ran out the common room, leaving a confused, curious Draco behind.

With a roll of his eyes, Draco collapsed onto the nearest sofa in dramatic fashion. It’d be just like Hermione to get lost in the library on the way back down. As he waited, Draco decided on one thing: he would confront her on whatever it was that was bothering her. He could not stand not knowing what was making her so weird. 

What felt like an eternity later, but in reality was only fifteen minutes, Hermione erupted into the quiet common room, deep in thought. Fed up with waiting so long, the young blonde sat up and marched over towards Hermione.

“What is wrong wi-“ he began, half way across the common room.

“They want to adopt me,” Hermione blurted out.

“Wait, what?” Draco blinked, confused by the outburst.  

“Just what I said,” Hermione rolled her eyes and began to pace, making her way towards the fire place.

Draco watched quietly, siting back onto the chair he abandoned, watching her with sharp, grey eyes. He noticed how restless she was, as if thinking of the best way to tell him, and so he let her think. She stopped and faced him, wringing her hands.  

“When Professor Dumbledore called me up to his office, he told that there were two people who wanted to adopt me,” Hermione said, her quiet voice filling the space. “He said it was to give me safe homes and protection.” 

“Oh,” Draco dumbly responded, piecing together Hermione’s odd behavior. “That’s a good thing, right?” 

Hermione exhaled as she watched her friend tilt his head. With little grace, she collapsed into the opposite sofa and stared into the dancing flames.  

“I don’t know,” she whispered after a moment. “Nothing good ever happens to me. Or, it does, and then it all goes wrong.” The fire crackled and popped, flames continuing to raise and fall behind the grate as Hermione stared at them. “Is it a good thing? I don’t want to be burden to anyone, and my mum. She would go absolutely mad. Nothing nice ever lasts in my life.” 

Sitting in that chair, Draco realized something. He didn’t like the dejected face on Hermione at all. He didn’t know quite why, but the way she looked so lost and lonely hurt him. What more, is that this should have been good news, something to celebrate and be excited about. Instead, here she sat, worrying about if it would be a good idea to take this opportunity. 

“Well, what do you want?” He asked at last, crossing his arms as he leaned back in the chair.

“What?” she looked up, genuine confusion on her face.

“It’s your life, isn’t it? So, what happens should be up to you,” Draco shrugged. “Besides, it sounds like a good chance to get away from your mum.”

“In a way,” Hermione frowned, brow furrowed in thoughtful reflection. “Although, I think the purpose is more for protection from Him, and not my mother. Otherwise, I don’t think Professor Dumbledore would have chosen Professor Snape and Professor McGonagall.”

“Uncle Sev would adopt you?” Draco jumped out of his seat, face glowing, catching Hermione by surprise. 

“Ah, yes,” Hermione replied, not quite sure how to react.  

“That’s brilliant,” the blonde boy exclaimed as he began to talk about all the things they could do over the holidays.  

All the while, Hermione had to smile. Somehow, he always was able to make her feel better. While most of her doubts melted away in the face of her friend’s enthusiasm, she couldn’t help but have some left. She didn’t want anyone to adopt her because they felt like they had to or needed to do so. 

“Do you think,” Hermione began, hesitant and hushed, “that they are doing this because they have to?” 

“No,” was the confident reply. “If there’s one thing I know about Uncle Sev, it’s that he would never do something like this unless he wanted to protect you.”

“You think so?” she asked, hopeful, brown eyes searching his. 

“I know so,” he beamed down at her.  

A bright smile slowly emerged onto her face. She felt light as a feather. In a moment, she hugged her blonde friend tightly, thanking him for his belief. Quickly, she released him and turned towards her table, remarking how they still needed to finish their charms. With the back of her hand, she wiped off the tears that had formed so he wouldn’t see and began to chatter about their assignment for the holiday to the whines of her best friend.

——————————————

“And so she has accepted the offer?” Lucius hummed at the dark man.

“That appears to be the case,” Severus remarked from his desk. “I can’t say I’m surprised it took as long as it did to decide upon it. I rather expected her to take longer.” 

The day before, Hermione approached the head table during breakfast requesting to talk to Dumbledore. While he had little doubt as to what their conference would pertain to, it took Severus no less by surprise. It appeared that the strong friendship between his godson and future daughter helped her overcome the difficulties of the idea. 

Indeed, he knew the pains of being alone in the world. The feeling of being so utterly controlled by another was not stranger to Severus, and he could tell, without legimency, her struggle. In part, it drove him to even consider this scheme in the first place. At the very least, he could help another young snake before they make a painful mistake as he did.  

“I suppose you would about these things, Severus,” Lucius sighed. “I almost wish you could assign both of her godparents. However, as it is, this works far more in our favor than I initially planned. I must say, this scheme has developed quite nicely.” 

“You always have such good luck, Lucius,” Severus chuckled, reclining into his chair.  

“Not as much as I would like,” the blonde man shook his head. “If I were half as fortunate as you made me out to be, there would be far less to worry about.”

“Unfortunately, for us, there is no rest for the wicked,” Severus murmured, staring blankly at a student essay in front of him. 

“Ah, and where would the world be without us?” Lucius wryly remarked. “At the very least, there are protection measures in place for Miss Granger and my family.”

“Did Albus finally contact you himself?” Severus glanced up, brow raised. 

“He did indeed. Has the most interesting theory, I must admit,” the other man mused. “The sacrifice is well worth the reward if this plan were to work.” 

“Playing the villain is unforgiving work,” Severus added after a moment. “Thankless as well.” 

“I suppose you would know better than I,” Lucius said, as he, too, took a seat. Silence engulfed the room for a moment as both men lost themselves in their thoughts. “And, are you sure of McGonagall’s choice of godmother?” 

“Quite,” Severus answered. 

“This will be quite fun,” Lucius smirked. “I do enjoy making people squirm.” 

“And you wonder why you are so universally disliked,” Severus remarked. 

“I don’t wonder, I know,” the other man grinned. “No one trusts a smiling snake.” 

Severus simply shook his head as he continued to grade the essays upon his desk. 

——————————————

“Are you quite sure, Minerva?” a plump woman with fiery red hair asked, hazel eyes watching the Scottish woman in front of her with a mixture of concern and amazement. “This girl, I’ve heard of her from Ronald and the twins, of course. She’s a muggle-born in Slytherin, that hasn’t been done in so long.” 

“More than two centuries to be more precise,” the transfiguration professor sighed. “However, she is not quite what you would expect. I do believe she is a good girl, not evil at heart. Her mother, though.” 

Minerva invited Molly Weasley, the most nurturing and loving woman she knew, as well as one of her best friends, to tea. Since Hermione had agreed to the adoption, Minerva knew she needed a strong woman to counter the influence of Lucius Malfoy. Perhaps, temper would be the better term, as she recalled the fact that Hermione was quite close to the youngest Malfoy. 

“But, You-Know-Who coming back? This is very serious, Minerva,” Molly fretted. “And the boys? Will they be okay, and how is Albus-“

“You know as well as I do that Albus has several contingency plans working right now, but would never tell us anything else than we absolutely need to know,” the Scottish woman rubbed her temple in irritation. “I swear, he’s the same now as he was fifty years ago. Always a plan with that man.” 

“But his heart is in the right place,” Molly patted her. “And if he thinks this is the best way to protect her. Poor child, being a target for Him at such a young age, and it’s so kind of you to take her on as you will.”  

“Molly, if you saw the way her mother treats her,” Minerva murmured, forlorn and heavy, “It’s the least I can do for the child. She is intelligent, and helpful if you will believe it. She actually has a study group for all houses, has always helped Mister Longbottom. Really, it’s a mystery at times why she is in Slytherin at all.” 

“Where do you think she would have been, if not Slytherin?” Molly tilted her head curiously. “The boys only say nasty things about her, but you know how they are. I know Ronald attacked and seriously injured her earlier this year. The twins do not appear as opposed to her, but have said she is just another Slytherin.” 

“She would have made a fine Gryffindor,” Minerva smiled softly, “She is loyal and defends her friends, those she cares about, and is quite fair and respectful. However, I fear her cunning and ambition is what landed her in Slytherin.” 

“What a shame,” Molly hummed. “At least we can still guide her.” 

“I highly doubt she will want to join Him after everything that has happened,” Minerva chuckled, humorless and dry. “I can safely say that I do not believe she would ever support him. No, she would not have turned to the dark.” 

“That is good to hear, I suppose,” Molly nodded. “Well, you know I cannot deny you this request, Minerva.” 

“Thank you,” the elder woman smiled at the younger. “I have a feeling she will be needing all the protect she can gather sooner than any of us would like.”

—————————————— 

“For the hundredth time, Millie, I can’t tell you here,” Hermione whispered as the feast came to an end. “And, besides, we have a meeting soon. I was told to tell too many people. As it is, Draco already knows, and I was told I could tell three people. After the meeting, I’ll tell you.” 

“Tell her what?” Pansy asked rather loudly.

“All about my hols and the books I found, of course,” Hermione answered with a benign smile.  

Pansy fixed her with a scrutinizing stare, to which Hermione rose an eyebrow. She knew the thin line she was watching. Ever since everyone arrived on the train, Pansy appeared to be poking at Hermione again. She didn’t know why, only that she would not give way to the pug-nosed girl. Something about her behavior set Hermione on edge, and she didn’t like it. 

“Did you do anything interesting, being cooped up here and all?” Blaise asked from across the table. 

“We explored the castle and found all these different rooms,” Draco answered for her.  

Hermione raised a brow at the blonde boy next to her. She had also noticed the way the two boys interacted. It was almost as if they were competing over something, but what, she didn’t know nor cared at the moment. She simply shrugged and turned back to Pansy with an equally inane question about her holiday.  

“He whined about how girls find things ‘cute,’” Hermione hummed as she ate her dessert. “To which I found more things adorable to irritate him.” 

“A gargoyle is not ‘precious’ or ‘cute,’ Hermione,” Draco rolled his eyes at the bushy haired brunette. 

“I maintained that this one was,” Hermione asserted, nose in the air. “You should’ve seen it, Pans. Had the biggest smile and eyes. Absolutely adorable.” 

“Still, we missed you both on the train ride,” Blaise smiled. “It wasn’t quite the same.”

“Yeah,” Theo joined the conversation, “There was no one to make fun of us.” 

“Pansy, did you not uphold your side of our bargain,” Hermione faux gasped at the black haired witch. 

“Apparently, my insults were not wordy enough, so said Greg,” Pansy dramatically sighed, to which everyone else snickered.  

With that, the odd tension immediately vanished. The girls gossiped about the latest fashions and what they did, where they went. The boys primary spoke about quidditch as they stuffed themselves full. By the end of the dessert, they group of first years trekked back to the dungeons and, after waiting some time, went through the ritual meeting. Half paying attention, half distracted, they listened to their leader until they were dismissed.

At this, they bid goodnight to the boys before heading towards their dorm. Hermione looped arms with Millie, talking about their transfiguration assignment and what they learned. Sufficiently boring to the other girls, they fell behind in the common room. As Pansy and Daphne yawned, ready for bed, Hermione led Millie towards Melinda’s portrait, talking all the while of school work until in front of the half-blood.

“Is Annalie inside?” Hermione asked quietly, looking to be sure they were alone.

“That she is, darling,” the woman kindly responded. “Would you like me to admit your friend tonight as well?” 

“Yes, please,” Hermione smiled. 

“Admit me where?” Millie asked, confusion painted on her face.

“You’ll see,” her friend winked as the portrait swung open. 

Down the small passage, the entered the converted study alcove. An ornate, walnut table stood between two cushioned benches, a large window to the lake letting in an eerie glow. Emerald drapes framed the tall windows, and another large portrait, hung upon one wall. Inside stood Melida, the keeper of the secret alcove. Annalie sat upon one emerald bench, flipping through a small, black diary. 

“I see you’re here, little snake,” the blonde girl smiled at the first years. “With Millie as well.”  

“Hi,” Millie waved, before turning back to Hermione with an expectant expression. “Someone here said she had some news to share with us?” 

“Yes, I do,” Hermione gulped. “What I say cannot be spread around, and I mean to anyone, on purpose or accidentally. It is something I didn’t even know was possible until I was told over the hol.” 

Annalie frowned at the serious words and nervous nature of her protege. Likewise, Millie’s brow furrowed. Both girls knew that Hermione did not ask for such privacy nor secrecy unless absolutely necessary. The fact that she felt the need to take them somewhere so secluded as this for whatever she was to share had alarm bells going off for the fifth year. 

“You see, Professors Snape and McGonagall offered to adopt me over the hols by Professor Dumbledore’s suggestion,” Hermione fidgeted. “And I said yes.” 

“That’s such good news, Hermione,” Millie beamed, clapping her hands over her friends. “Why don’t you want us to talk about it?”

“Well, they’re doing it to protect me from You-Know-Who,” Hermione said, glancing between the two girls in the room. “And so I was told to tell only three people if I must.”

A look of understanding dawned upon Annalie’s face. Her mind raced through what she knew of Hermione’s situation, lips pursed in deep thought.  

“How are they going to adopt you,” the fifth year asked, eyes intent upon Hermione. 

“See, that’s part of the, ah, situation if you will,” Hermione shuffled. “They are going to use an old pureblood tradition to adopt me into the families.” 

“Like a blood ritual?” Annalie gasped. “That hasn’t been done in a century at least. The ministry would never allow it.”

“Because they don’t know about it,” Hermione remarked, finally sitting down across from her mentor.  

“And that’s another reason we can’t go telling people, huh?” Millie mused. “But still, it’s a good thing.” 

“I think so,” Hermione nodded. “Though, I still have to keep up appearances. I can’t change how I’m living, otherwise that would be suspicious. At least, that’s the way Professor Snape explained it to me.”  

“That makes sense, unfortunately,” the blonde sighed. “At the very least, between the two of us, we can get you out of that house and away from your mother for most of the summer.” 

“Definitely,” Millie beamed, excited. “I can owl my mum tomorrow about it and see what she says.” 

“I’ll do the same,” Annalie agreed, a slow, genuine smile taking over her face. “And, besides, we can have even more fun with this than before.” 

The first years glanced at each other before turning back to the fifth year. For the rest of the evening, they talked, and, during this comforting conversation, Hermione couldn’t think of a place that felt more like home. In this little alcove, she found peace for the first time in a long time.

——————————————

The weeks crawled by, as the blustery weather gave way to nicer days, blue skies, and warm weather, everyone longed to be outside upon the grounds. Even as the year drew to an end, Hermione could barely believe how fast the term had finished. As each new day dawned, it brought her closer to what she began to anticipate; the day she would finally be adopted by people who actually wanted her.

As per the agreement between Hermione and her professors, she did not tell anyone else about the secret. Thankfully, her confidantes were smart enough to know not to talk about it. Even Melinda kept her word, and did not gossip about it to the other portraits. Soon enough, Pansy forgot about her suspicion, and life returned to the blissful norm.

Exam week crawled upon the first years, and soon everyone knew that a stressed, study frenzied Hermione was not to be messed with. Even with the best revision schedules and most organized notes, she flew through preparation in such a way that even those who disliked her did not dare disturb her. All the while, her friends watched with a mixture of amusement and exasperation.

“You most likely got everything right, ‘Mione,” Greg moaned as they left the charms room, their last exam of the year.

“Are you sure, though,” she turned to him in earnest. “I mean, I don’t know if I got the similarities on number 55 quite as well as I could, you know? What if he marks off because I did the syntax all wrong?”

“You still would have done better than us,” Vince nodded, trying to calm the frazzled brunette.

“But is it good enough?” she turned her doe eyes onto the other boy. 

“Come on, ‘Mione, you’ll be top of our year, easy,” Theo chuckled. 

“But what if I didn’t put enough detail into number 60? Oh, I just knew I should’ve talked about the origins of the root of the spell,” Hermione fussed. 

“Hermione, you did just fine,” Pansy laughed. “There’s no reason to worry.” 

“But Pansy, I just need to get it perfect. What about the extra credit?” She groaned. 

“There was extra credit?” Daphne raised a brow.

“Yes,” Millie and Hermione answered at once.  

“I just don’t know if I did that wrong, too. Maybe I should have drawn a diagram instead,” Hermione continued as the group of Slytherins walked down the stairs.  

“For Merlin’s sake, woman,” Draco rolled his eyes, exasperated. “You most likely got full marks on everything, including the extra credit.” 

“You really think so?” she inquired, eyes round and hopeful.  

At that moment, all the boys in the group were tongue tied. The hopeful honey eyes threw them for a loop none were prepared for. She seldom doubted and sought reassurance in public. The fact that she looked at them with such an open expression rendered everyone speechless for different reasons.

“Miss Granger, I do believe your irritatingly bookish habits have wrecked havoc within the common room of late,” the deep baritone of Snape cut in. “I would be quite disappointed if you terrorized the older students for nothing.” 

“Do you think I should go and ask Professor Flitwick about it?” Hermione turned her attention towards the dark wizard who simply raised an unimpressed eyebrow at her. “I take that as a no.”

“Be that as it may, Miss Granger, I will need to see you in my office after dinner,” he instructed. “Seven o’clock sharp.”

“Yes, sir,” Hermione chirped with a smile before skipping off towards the dungeons.

“What was that about,” Pansy asked as soon as they were out of earshot of their Head of House. 

“Oh, over the hols, I asked Professor Snape for a project to do. You see, I finished my homework all on the first couple of days, so I needed something to do,” Hermione hummed as they descended more stairs. “He said he’d review my findings at the end of the term.” 

“That is the single, most Hermione thing I think I’ve ever heard you say,” Blaise remarked, shaking his head in amazement. 

“What? I just wanted a challenge. I know I can do it, so why not give it a try?” she shrugged.  

“I don’t know what’s worse,” Pansy moaned. “How you are absolutely mental about exams, or the fact you purposefully got an extra assignment for fun.” 

“It’s definitely the second one,” Theo chuckled.

“I do hope I did enough background research for that project, though,” Hermione mumbled to herself. “I only got ten feet of parchment on one scroll, and another five on the second. I don’t want to under do it, you know, being my first independent study and all.” 

“Merlin and Morgana, this girl is a terror,” Pansy gaped.

“But she’s our terror,” Theo gave wise nod.

Everyone laughed, even Hermione, as they entered the common room. A very empty room greeted them, as most of the students finished with their exams were already outside. The first years followed suit, dropping off their things before trickling outside. The warm air and bright sun soothed them, a balm for the frayed nerves left form exams, as they laughed and played. 

Hermione observed the Weasley twins are goading the Giant Squid with fish towards a group of Hufflepuff girls, while some Slytherins were sneaking up behind them with what appeared to be floating balls of water. Groups of students dotted the verdant lawns, with a few even zooming through the sky in what appeared to be a pick up game of quidditch. 

Leaning back, Hermione could not imagine anything else better than this no matter how she tried. She reflected that, by this time tomorrow, her life would be changed for the better, hopefully forever. She didn’t tell anyone, but the extra assignment she received was actually a genealogy and family history that she decided to do herself. She wanted to be prepared, and, while she couldn’t find reference to the spell in any of the library texts, she could, at the very least, find out about her soon to be parents. 

Shadows lengthened as students trickled back inside, and, as they walked together to the Great Hall, Hermione smiled. Dinner swept by in a blur of laughter and stories, gossip, and grossly exaggerated tales. All too soon, Hermione found herself outside of Professor Snape’s office, apprehensive and suddenly nervous.  

The door creaked open to reveal the dark haired wizard, staring at the brunette girl. She gulped and tried her best to keep her newly discovered mask into place. She would be calm, and not appear as nervous as she felt. With a nod, she followed Severus into the classroom and found it to be quite different from the normal classroom.  

All the tables were removed from the room, leaving an open space in the middle with an alter. A dark, thick potion bubbled upon it, as if it had a life of its own. Light, dimmer than normal, warmed the room with it’s dull glow upon the worn stone. She walked further into the room, following one of the walls and finally noticed four other adults watching her. Three she knew, as Mister Malfoy, Professor McGonagall, and the Headmaster all stood at the back of the room. Next to the transfiguration professor stood a plump woman with bright, red hair and a kind face.  

“I’m glad to see you made it, Miss Granger,” Professor Dumbledore smiled at the wary girl. “Severus?” 

“No one followed her, and all the wards are up, Albus,” the grave professor replied. 

“How excellent, now then, did you memorize the lines we gave you?” he asked the girl with a smile. She nodded in reply, trying not to appear nervous. “Good girl, now then, if you will step forward, Miss Granger. Just like that, very good. Now, before we begin, I do believe I owe you a bit of an explanation. You see, not only are your prospective parents here, but their selection for your godparents.  

“I know that in the muggle world, this appointment is more spiritual and for status, but in the wizarding world, it is a magical bond of sorts,” the silver bearded wizard continued. “You see, we make a magical vow to protect and provide for our godchildren. It is a very real honor and responsibility. As you see, Severus chose Lucius Malfoy as your godfather. It is my understanding you have already met.”

Hermione gave a small smile to the blonde man who stood in the corner. He winked back before turning towards the headmaster, expression set into one of aristocratic attention. Brunette hair swung back towards the headmaster, eyes alight with curiosity. 

“As for Minerva, she chose a good friend of hers, Mrs. Molly Weasley,” Albus motioned towards the kind woman. 

“Hello, ma’am, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Hermione demurred with a polite smile. 

“Oh, dear, there’s no need for formalities,” the large woman blustered, genuine grin on her face. “Just call me Molly, m’dear.” 

“Ah,” Hermione began, glancing between Dumbledore and McGonagall, The former gave her a small, encouraging nod. With a quick look at the potions professor, she turned back towards the red headed woman. “Thank you for your kindness, Mis- Molly.”

The woman beamed at her, which earned a small smile from the girl.  

“Very good, now, one last time, as I must ask before we continue,” Dumbledore clapped his hands, “Severus, do you offer your name, family, and blood for Miss Hermione Jean Granger to bind her as your own child by your free will?” 

“Yes,” the concise answer. 

“Excellent, and Minerva,” he turned his twinkling blues eyes towards the stern professor. “Do you offer your name, family, and blood for Miss Hermione Jean Granger to bind her as your own child by your free will?” 

“I do,” she nodded, her mind adding _as if you’ve given me any choice but to accept._  

“Wonderful, now then,” the headmaster turned towards Hermione last. “Do you, Miss Hermione Jean Granger take the names, families, and blood Severus Snape and Minerva McGonagall to bind yourself as their child by your free will?” 

“Yes, sir,” Hermione nodded, her nerves having calmed enough for an answer. 

“Excellent, now then, I will start the incantation,” the headmaster beamed.  

Candle light flickered along the walls, the warm glow seeming to make the room fade as if all that existed was warm light and bubbling cauldron. Undulating, rhythmic chanted filled the air as the headmaster started the spell. Power pulsated through the room, dancing along Hermione’s skin, as a flame upon a log. With each word and cadence, the potion roiled, raising into the as a sphere before settling within the cauldron, surface glassy and smooth.  

A flash of silver glinted in Dumbledore’s hand. He took the potion master’s and cut a slit on the palm, only to release it after a sufficient amount of blood dripped into the potion. He repeated this with the transfiguration professor, before turning to Hermione. She took a deep breath and gathered all her courage as she stepped forward, hand out. A sting cut through her hand as blood fell from her hand into the potion. All the while, the headmaster continued his rhythmic chant.  

Hermione stepped back, gripping her hand, only to find the wound to be completely closed within moments. She watched in wonder as the potion once more moved, as if stirred by an invisible hand. From black to blue to white the potion changed, the glossy surface appearing to never move, until it turned completely transparent. It rose out of the cauldron once more, splitting into three perfect portions and fell into matching crystal vials. 

Silence filled the room as Dumbledore handed a vial to Snape. In the same, hypnotic language, the headmaster questioned the potions master. His deep baritone answered in the same tongue, and, when finished, he drank the potion. Dumbledore replied in like before moving for the second vial. He repeated the same question, to which her lilting voice responded in the same cadence.  

All the while, Hermione watched in a mixture of wonder and nerves. Magic had proven to be more magnificent, more powerful, than she could have imagined. In fact, there was nothing about her that was anything less than tense. As she listened to the chants and answers, she found herself prep talking in her mind. _You can do this, Hermione! You wanted it, and you can do it. You studied the words and recited the spell more times than you can could - well not really, you did keep track of that, but that’s not important! What is important is the fact that you can, you will do this!_  

Those thoughts raced through her mind as Dumbledore proceeded to walk to her. His kind, blue eyes twinkled. With a smile and a wink, the headmaster asked the entrancing question to which she found herself responding almost automatically. Her young soprano sang the words of a lost language, as if something possessed her. He gave her the vial and she drank the clear liquid.  

The effect was instantaneous. She felt power flood through her small body, through her veins and in her blood, as if it were being changed. While not painful, it felt odd, not quite unpleasant, however entirely pleasant. She felt the world going outside of focus, only able to feel and hear herself. Nothing else registered, and for the moment, nothing else mattered. Her hands glowed, as if radiating a soft light, to which she discovered her whole body had been giving on the same radiance. 

Then, it ended.  

When she came back down from the sensation, the room came back into focus slowly, as if she were slogging out of a muddy swamp. Voices sounded garbled, sights blurry, and she could not make anything out for sure. It wasn’t until she heard the worried voice of Mrs. Weasley, that Hermione found focus is the world around her. 

“Are you alright, dear?” the kindly matron asked.  

“I-I think so,” Hermione blinked hard. “What happened?”  

“Your body adjusted to the new found heritage, if you will,” the headmaster gently explained.  

“So, it worked?” the first year blinked at the room of adults.  

“Yes, it did, Miss Granger,” Dumbledore smiled. 

A bright, happy smile shone on Hermione’s face, and she hugged the nearest person, who happened to be Molly Weasley, tears shining on her face. She knew that it would be most effective in the long term, that right now she would still have to pretend. Still, it meant that maybe one day soon, she would no longer be under the constant control of her mother. That maybe she could have nice things, too. 

“Now then, I do believe you need to rest. This is a very draining process,” Professor Dumbledore clapped once. “Let me escort you to your dorm, young Miss Granger.”  

“Am I still Miss Granger, though?” Hermione asked, slowly climbing to her feet. “Or am I now Miss Snape? Granger-McGonagall-Snape? Snape-McGonagall?” 

The thoughtful musings of a new names stopped only as the door to the dungeon room closed, the wobbling girl’s voice being complimented and conspiring with that of the elderly wizard. So the room contained four individuals of a most unique collection in a most awkward silence. Minerva could not help but notice the genuine affection the blonde man showed for the muggle-born witch. Nor could she help but notice how quickly Molly took to her, either. 

“I suppose that we will all be working with each other in the future,” she observed, trying to break the odd quiet.  

“Yes, I do believe that is a safe assumption,” Severus answered in kind.

“And does that mean we can trust you as well, Lucius?” Minerva continued, brow raised. 

“Rest assured that what I do is in the best interest of my family, which now includes Miss Granger,” the aristocrat nodded. 

“As long as we are clear on that point, I suppose we can all call a truce,” the transfiguration professor ventured.  

“Yes, I do believe it would be best for the girl,” Molly nodded. “She does not need us to be fighting in front of her, I dare say.” 

“Indeed, that would be most unpleasant,” Severus agreed. 

“I am glad to hear,” Minerva nodded, before turning to Molly. “Would you accompany me back to my office, Molly? I would like the company while I grade the exams.” 

“Of course, my dear, no need to ask,” the plump witch beamed at her friend before turning towards the two men. “Severus, Lucius.” 

With a quick goodbye, Minerva left the warded room and made her way towards her office, the Weasley matron chattering away about her children, at home and afar, quite contentedly. It was only once the doors were shut to her own office and all the normal wards erected that the red headed woman stopped her running commentary. 

“You know,” she said after a moment, “She is not what I expected.” 

“What do you mean, Molly?” Minerva asked, pulling out the first set of exams. 

“Just that, Minerva,” the red headed witch replied. “She isn’t as wild or as ill behaved as Ronald made her out to be, nor was she as spiteful as the twins said she was.” 

“Of course, not,” Minerva tutted. “Your children do not like her because they are from rival houses. Why would they like her at this point?” 

“She appears to be rather pleasant and intelligent, though,” Molly frowned. “I thought I raised my children to look past prejudices such as those. I know it can be hard, but it is not helpful for anyone to hate so much.”  

“I agree, Molly, I do,” the Scottish witch sighed as she leaned back in her chair. “I am sure, in time, they will get over it. I am sure the twins are grudgingly impressed with her, and Ronald simply dislikes the young Malfoy, therefore doesn’t like her by association. They are just children, they will get over it.”

“I do hope so,” Molly pursed her lips. “For their sakes.” 

—————————————— 

“I do believe congratulations are in order,” Lucius remarked as he followed the potions master back into his quarters.

“Indeed, for a plan well laid,” Severus wryly replied. 

“Oh, come now,” Lucius chuckled, “We both know, somewhere very deep down, you’ve always wanted a child.” 

“So deep I didn’t even know it myself,” he retorted. 

“You make it sound so horrible,” the blonde man said. “It’s not, you know.”

“For the moment, I do not have a daughter, but a charge, not matter how much you protest otherwise. I cannot father her for the time being,” Severus sighed. 

He grudgingly admitted that, truly, deep down, he wanted a child. However, it never happened, no matter how much he wanted it. Severus eventually gave up on the idea of what most men would call domestic felicity. Instead, he found joy in different areas. He abandoned the idea of a child many years ago. The fates were cruel, he learned long ago. Even when he gained a child, he could not actually care for her how he would want. No, instead, he was relegated to watch and occasionally step in, only when necessary. Work out of the shadows. Again. 

“Perhaps not how one would perceive normal parenting,” Lucius mused aloud. 

“Have I ever told you I have a distaste for riddles?” Severus growled. 

“Only every time you talk to your beloved headmaster,” the blonde smirked. “Give it time, Severus. I’m sure you will find a way.” 

“As encouraging as a boggart,” Severus muttered.  

“Why thank you,” Lucius bowed before leaving for the evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, Lucius is becoming a rather fabulous character, if I do say so myself. It's quite fun to write these Severus-Lucius scenes as I see them as opposites that attract and have a bromance. The Dramione cuteness always is awesome, and I hope you guys enjoy. I should be writing more regularly, as well as updating a few other stories and adding a few other ones. 
> 
> So. Life happened. A lot. I had family over, followed by a family reunion, then I started school back up (huzzah half semesters), had family die, and have sick grandparents. It’s been an adventure. I am glad to be writing again, and I hope I answered everyone well. As always, thank you for reading, and enjoy!
> 
> Thank you for all the amazing people out there. I love you all. :)


	16. The End of a Year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end of Hermione's first year at Hogwarts comes to a close.

“Hermione, wake up,” a high voice crooned, a light shove moving Hermione.

She groaned softly, resisting the call to consciousness. Eye lids remained stubbornly shut for a few more prods, and she clung to the bliss of sleep. However, the day, nor Daphne who persisted in shaking her, were not to be denied. At long last, Hermione got up, rubbing her face with her eyes, trying to wipe away the sleep in her eyes.

“There you are, sleepy head,” Daphne grinned. “You know how Annalie gets when you’re late for breakfast.”

Sure enough, a glance at her wrist sent Hermione into her morningly flurry of panic. She began to think as she worked shampoo through her hair, not noticing any difference. In front of the mirror, brushing her teeth as meticulous as she did everything else, nothing looked out of place. Bushy, brown hair? Check. Light brown eyes? Yup. Slightly bucked front teeth? Unfortunately. Barely noticeable freckles across her nose? Still there.

Lips pursed as she made her way downstairs, meeting Annalie at the center of the common room at seven fifteen on the dot. Nothing appeared to have actually changed. Well, not outward, anyways. Which made her wonder even more. Was her blood a different color now? Maybe she would feel magic differently? Of what if she had more magic than before? Or less? However, little spells she did had no noticeable difference. Annalie watched her out of the corner of her eye, and Hermione knew she was curious as well as she could be.

During breakfast, as they talked and joked around, Hermione found herself having two conversations at once. It felt bizarre and surreal, how saying, “I’m fine, everything went well in the meeting with Professor Snape,” mean two different things at once. For almost everyone, it meant that her extra credit project went well, that she got what she needed, and got a Hermione-passable mark -though she did fret about thing.

However, the three that knew understood the truth behind the words. Yes, the adoption happened, and that everything was okay. Professor Dumbledore appearing with her did cause something of a stir in the House, though that meant narrow glances, perked ears, and benign questions to the Headmaster as to why Hermione had to be escorted to bed. He brushed it off as well as any Slytherin Hermione heard. He happened upon Snape and Hermione as they went through her ‘project.’ After listening to it, he brought Hermione, who had fallen ill, presumably from stress, brought the first year back to the snake pit. 

This generally accepted theory was not questioned openly by the elder Slytherins, and not at all by the first years. Hermione quickly corroborated the story and said she wanted nothing more than to sleep. The stress of exams and her sleepless nights had done her in, and, at that, all suspicion died.

And now, on a day so fine that even Hermione couldn’t think of books and schoolwork, she found herself once more by the lake, under a tree with the other first year girls. An early summer breeze whipped by them, curly hairy waving in the wind, as laughter floated through the air. Even the older students, haggard as they looked just a week before, appeared rejuvenated and full of energy. 

“And that’s when they said that Matilda and Garrett were planning on telling their parents,” Daphne squealed as she related a story.

“That’s so scandalous,” Millie gasped and giggled. 

Hermione shook her head, nose in a wizarding romance novel she found in the common room. The girls had taken to gossiping, telling stories of nothingness, and enjoying the day. As she went to turn a page, Pansy snorted, catching her attention.

“What is it, Pans?” Hermione asked, head tilted to the side.

“Loser Longbottom is right over there, looking like an idiot as always,” the black haired girl huffed. “He’s looking over here as if there’s anything I’d have to do with him.”

“Really, Pansy, you need to get over your obsession with the boy,” Hermione retorted. “I can’t decide if you have a bigger crush on Neville or Weasley.”

“I do not,” Pansy gasped, glancing at Hermione in mock horror.

“With the way you go on about them, I don’t know,” the brunettes answered in a sing-song voice, standing up.

The other girls burst out laughing, while Pansy looked honestly scandalized at the prospect of liking a Gryffindor. A wink and goodbye sent Hermione on her way towards the fidgeting Neville, who looked at the group of girls as if they would get up and attack him. Internally, Hermione rolled her eyes. For a Gryffindor, Neville sure was a chicken. However, she shoved those thoughts aside. She would be distrustful of a bunch of Slytherins if she were on the other side. 

“What’s the matter?” the brunette asked, her face scrunched with concern.

“Not here,” Neville whispered, looking frantically back and forth. “Follow me.”

Curiosity winning over common sense for the moment, Hermione followed the Gryffindor boy through the halls, wondering at his agitation. True, it did not take much to kick Neville Longbottom into a fuss, but this appeared worse than normal. Finally, they were at their study table inside the notably quiet library.

“They’re going to do something stupid and end up losing us more house points,” Neville exploded, pacing back and forth as Hermione seated herself. “I don’t know how, or when, but they overheard someone say something about going tonight. They think someone is going to be there tonight.”

“By ‘someone,’ I take it to mean they still suspect Professor Snape,” Hermione sighed, irritated that her new father was still a suspect. 

True, they never really saw the less harsh and more ‘caring’ side of the professor, but it’s not like they could help it, being Gryffindors and all. It irked her how they jumped to conclusions about that one fact, and it made her more defensive than normal. At the very least, go through all the professors and make a logical list of who would be responsible. Alas, she found, as the year drew on, that reason was sorely lacking in the House of Lions.

“I know you don’t think it’s Professor Snape, but you have to admit he’s dark and scary,” Neville mumbled, looking down at his fingers.

“I suppose,” Hermione acquiesced with a dramatic sigh. 

“Hermione,” the boy whined, “what are we going to do?”

“We?” she raised a brow.

“Yes, we,” Neville pouted at her. “I know you don’t like them, but they’re my friends, and as my friend, you should help me.”

_ Sometimes, having friends is more complicated than I though _ , Hermione thought, a frown on her face. While she disliked the idea of helping Weasley any more, it’s not like Neville didn’t know about this plan from the beginning. She had no reason to believe that Potter had lost the Dorks more points than after the midnight outing. Instead, she tilted her head to the side, studying the boy.

“What’s the real reason you don’t want them to go now?” Hermione asked, narrow eyes fixed upon Neville.

“What do you mean real reason?” He stuttered, looking anywhere but her.

“Just that,” Hermione gazed at him, thoughtful and intense. “You knew about the plan all along, so why stop them now?”

“It’s just,” Neville collapsed into a chair, “I don’t want them to get hurt. I think that if they went, not only will they hurt, they’ll do something worse. I don’t know. I just don’t want them to go.” 

Hermione gazed at her first friend for a time, thinking the situation through. She had not illusions as to the influence she held over the other Gryffindors -none what so ever. However, the thought of actually going on such a dangerous adventure when there would be three others already doing their due diligence in the name of justice and righteousness and all that Gryffindor virtue stuff did not appeal to her. No, she would not accompany them, but what to do?

“I have an idea,” Hermione leaned back, watching Neville. “I’ll talk to them.”

“Really?” Neville looked up at Hermione, eyes full of hope.

“Yes,” she nodded at the boy, his growing relief making her feel better. “I’ll be here reading, but I won’t wait forever. Annalie is expecting me at three o’clock for something or the other outside. So, you have until then.”

“Thank you so much, Hermione,” Neville rushed forward and hugged her. “You have no idea what this means to me.”

“You’re welcome,” a soft smile upon her lips. “Now, go and get them before I have to leave.”

With a nod, Neville scurried out of the library, off to find the golden trio of Gryffindor. Hermione chuckled etc herself and sat down, the glowing emotion of helping a person in need making her feel light as ever. She continued to read through the book, enjoying the narrative and characters. All the while, a little voice in the back of her head kept on running what she would finally say to saint Potter and his crew of do-gooders. 

“They’re coming,” Neville huffed as he trotted up to the table. “I just wanted you to know just in case.”

“Thank you, Neville,” Hermione nodded at the boy.

Closing her book as she watched Potter, Weasley, and Patil appeared around the corner of a far shelf. Frantic whispers flew between the small group of Gryffindors, eyes narrowing and glaring at the singular Slytherin as they approached the table. They were ruffled and unsure, something Hermione kept in mind as she took a neutral stance.

“Granger,” Potter finally addressed her after a moment of tense silence.

“Potter, Patil, Weasley,” Hermione politely nodded. 

“Neville said you wanted to talk to us?” the black haired boy regarded her warily.

“Yes, I did,” Hermione sighed, wondering how she would make a convincing enough case to stop the thick headed Gryffindors in front of her. “He told me of your plans for later.”

“I thought so,” Potter frowned, green eyes staring at her. “I take it that means you want to come along? You can, if you want.” The boy shrugged.

“I do not want to go, as a matter of fact,” Hermione primly responded. “He voiced some concerns about such an adventure. I do have to ask, of course, what have you done to tell the professors.”

“Well, we tried to tell Professor Dumbledore,” Patil frowned, looking at the Slytherin girl. “But he wasn’t there.”

“And have you tried to tell anyone else?” Hermione exhaled through her nose. “Professor McGonagall, for instance, would be an excellent choice. I know you don’t trust Professor Snape, which is a shame, but I cannot change that for you.”

“No, she wouldn’t believe us,” Weasley nearly shouted. “Anyways, it’s not like Snape isn’t involved in this. He was with You-Know-Who last time around, he is most likely trying to get him back to life or something.”

“Your inability to think for yourself is astounding,” Hermione deadpanned at the red head, who steamed at her words. “However, that is neither here nor there. Did you at the very least see when Professor Dumbledore would be back?” 

“He won’t be back until tomorrow,” Patil glared at Hermione. “That’s why whoever we heard is going to go after the stone tonight.”

“And you’re sure no one would believe you? Have you thought about writing to Professor Dumbledore and asking for him to come back immediately?” Hermione asked, trying to run through any possibility of help.

“It wouldn’t get there in time,” Weasley snapped at her, face turning redder by the moment. “And if I didn’t know any better I would think that you wanted him back, too.”

Silence engulfed the library for a moment, Hermione’s face transforming from polite curiosity to cold and emotionless, eyes assessing the Weasley before her. Rage at the boy ate her fear,  as she fingered her wand. Sense won out at the end, and she simply turned towards Potter, voice low and cold.

“Let me set you lot straight,” Hermione murmured quietly, drawing in even the bookshelves to listen. 

“I do not want him back, nor am I absolutely against you risking your lives tonight on a fool’s errand. Neville asked me to talk some sense into you, because he doesn’t want you lot dead by the morning. If you don’t want to look at the situation logically, actually ask for adult help, or somehow contact the Headmaster, then I cannot  do anything. It sounds like, no matter what alternative that would not risk your lives I come up with, you are determined to go and sacrifice yourselves,” she glared at each lion cub in turn. “So be it. You wouldn't listen to me, but I tried.”

She turned on her heel and left the library, book in hand, and four stunned students watching her retreating form. No matter what was happening outside, she could only control her response. So, she went to find Annalie, ready for whatever lesson her mentor deemed appropriate, and to put the stupidity of the Gryffindors out of her mind. She told herself that the sting of their distrust after everything she had done for them didn’t hurt all the while.

——————————————

Albus Dumbledore hummed to himself as he strolled through the main atrium of the Ministry of Magic. Few things were as majestic as this subterranean marvel of magic and architecture, and Albus mused about these things and more, giving jovial greetings. He made small talk as he made his way towards the records office. All the while, behind twinkling eyes and a bright smile, he schemed of how he would accomplish this part of his task, now that the newest thread in his weave plans joined the others.

He was due for a visit to the vital records department, as he checked several times a year for new students. While the book at the school was always accurate, he wanted to make sure that the Ministry records concurred with his records. A most lucky coincidence it was, he decided, that he needed to come in that day.

A smile and small talk convinced the secretary that she didn’t need to accompany him. He knew his way very well, and, what damage and horrible deeds could Dumbledore be doing? Of all the people in the wizarding world, the most trustworthy was Albus Dumbledore. So, he used his reputation to his advantage and went through far more than just the birth records. 

He found, to his great satisfaction, the complete changes in all of the magical documents. The House of Prince had a new heir, joining with the McGonagall line, and it looked like it was like that from the beginning. Document after document affirmed that the adoption worked, and so the relief and glee grew in the old wizard. A plan well executed was the most satisfying plan, Albus found over the years.

With his gnarled wand firm in his grip, the headmaster placed the finishing touches on perhaps his most covert plan in years. The enchantment he placed would last for a long time, allowing only the magical guardians or the girl herself to break it with a few drops of blood. While the warding magic would be considered dark, he found that, when used with due diligence and proper understanding, most of those blood wards to be most useful. 

After he checked his work, asking the secretary to look through the records and finding nothing new or amiss, the silver haired wizard waltzed out of the office. A happy tune filled the air around him as he left the ministry, business done, and left for the Leaky Cauldron. Ludo Bagman wanted to have a word with him of some wisp of an idea, and wanted Albus’ input. 

Albus would be remiss to arrive late to such a meeting.

——————————————

That evening, the first years gathered in their favorite spot by one of the fire places. They were talking and laughing, talking about the upcoming end of year feast, and how Slytherin would once more win the cup, barring any surprises. Their spirits were high and lively, laughing and joking with each other. Theo and Blaise played at Wizard’s Chess, while Theo watched. Draco related some adventure of the day, how they terrorized some Hufflepuffs, and the like, all in dramatic fashion.

When he got to another part, Potter and his friends whispering amongst each other by Hagrid’s hut, Hermione’s ears perked up. She put herself out of her sour mood, though their blatant distrust at her assistance still stung. She couldn’t help but be curious at her friend’s tale.

“I was going to go and stop them before they got too far,” Draco boasted with a grin, “But Professor Snape stopped them instead. I didn’t hear what they said, but it seemed like it was important. I wanted to sneak closer, but Longbottom showed up and they all left.”

“I wonder what that was about,” Blaise mused aloud, pawn hovering over the board only to be placed back in it’s original spot. 

“They are always up to something,” Theo shrugged.

“And that’s what bothers me,” Draco frowned, face thoughtful. “They are always doing things, but never get in trouble. It makes you wonder why they get special privileges.”

“One would argue we get special treatment,” Millie hummed, running a brush through Daphne’s hair. “At least, it always seems that way to everyone else.”

“If this is special treatment, I don’t want to see normal treatment,” Pansy snorted, flipping through the latest Witch Weekly. “It really is sad how partial most professors are, but, as Mother says, it is how the world sees us.”

“Do you think they’ll ever think of us as being normal,” Hermione asked, the earlier events still fresh in her mind’s eye.

“What do you mean?” Millie tilted her head. 

“Like, if we tried to help them, earnestly, for real, do you think they would believe us?” Hermione clarified, looking up from her book.

“Yeah, right,” Draco laughed, humorless and dry. “They sooner think we are planning something, like stealing their first born, than think we’d help them.” Upon seeing Hermione’s frown deepen, he continued with, “But that’s okay. We take care of ourselves, and if we are helping them, they would be so lucky.”

Hermione hummed, unfazed and thoughtful, her hand flipped the page of her novel to the next. She knew keen, grey eyes watched her carefully, and so she worked hard to appear nothing but normal and uninterested. It made her sad to know that these people, who were wonderful in their own rights, would never be appreciated the rest of the wizarding world. However, perhaps it was for the best. High Wizarding culture would survive with them. This group of children, already starting the high stakes game of their life. 

These thoughts churned in her mind for the rest of the night, unable to actually sleep. She tossed and turned, mind restless and, as morning dawned, she found herself already awake and unable to sit down. With time left, Hermione decided to take an early morning walk, making sure to set her watch. As she walked the halls, early pre-dawn light filtering through the windows, Hermione found herself humming until she found something in the hall.

“Neville,” she gasped, running forward, and undoing the body bind on him. “What happened?”

“Th-they left,” he gasped, gingerly moving his stiff joints. “I-I followed them out, just beyond the common room, and then, well, I tried to get them to go back and they froze me.”

“You’ve been out here this whole time?” Hermione’s eyes widened. “How were you not found?” 

“I dunno,” the boy groaned as he stood up properly. “But they left and they’re there, and I haven’t seen them since! What happens if they got hurt? Or if they were killed or if You-Know-Who got the stone?”

Panic began to bubble upon Neville’s face, eyes wide as numerous situations ran through his mind. Fear for his friends nearly paralyzed him once more, and Hermione found herself helping the chubby boy towards the potions master’s layer. In the early morning, the damp cold of the dungeon bit through Hermione’s robes, despite the warm weather they had for the past few days. She felt the boy next to her shivering, and so she placed her robes on his shoulders.

“Professor? Professor Snape?” Hermione called as she knocked, hoping that the dark wizard would awake. 

Moments passed by, and, just as Hermione prepared to knock once more, the door swung open with such sudden activity, that Neville squeaked and jumped back. A very grumpy, scowling Snape glared down at those who dared to interrupt his sleep, and found it to be, instead of an over eager Filch or prim McGonagall, to be two first years. Hermione gazed up at him with such expectant eyes he could be completely mad at her. At Neville, he scowled.

“And what is so important to wake me at this time?” he growled.

“Professor, I found Neville this morning, and he told me that Potter, Weasley, and Patil had left to go and stop someone from stealing the Philosopher’s Stone,” Hermione explained, blunt and concise. 

He pinched the bridge of his nose. Severus just knew that Potter and his friends were going to do something, he just didn’t know what. Now, he did. What frustrated him, however, was that this charge decided to endanger himself for no good reason. He saw, from the way that Hermione held herself, that she knew of the plan, perhaps aided, but disagreed with their decision.

“Is that so?” He said after a moment, not able to enjoy the evident unease Neville displayed. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “And did they try to tell anyone?”

“That’s what I said,” Hermione huffed, hands on her hips. “But no, they thought that no one would believe them, or were working against them. They wouldn’t even send an owl to Professor Dumbledore, which I suggested as well.”

Both of the males stared at Hermione after her outburst. Severus regarded his new daugther with some satisfaction. She had tried to curb their danger-seeking tendencies, attempted to put in logic, and, in the end, left them to do as they pleased. Neville, on the other hand, almost wanted to laugh. Hermione did suggest all sorts of ideas that he agreed with. Why put yourself at risk when you can get an adult?

“Well, this is a most irritation situation,” Severus sighed. “Miss Granger, Mister Longbottom, follow me.”

Both first years nodded and followed the dark wizard down the halls of Hogwarts. Up the stairs they went, Neville stepping in one of the vanishing steps on their way, towards Professor McGonagall’s quarters. A few moments later, the deputy Headmistress came out in her night robes. Her lips flattened when told what happened, and, just as they were all about to go to the Headmaster’s office, the man, himself, swept down the hall.

“Albus,” Minerva called out, “Something urgent has happened.”

“And what could happen so early on such a fine day?” he smiled at her.

“Mister Potter, Mister Weasley, and Miss Patil went after the stone,” Severus replied in his monotone.”

“Is that so?” the headmaster frowned, stroking his long, silver beard. “And how do we know this to be true?”

“Miss Granger spoke to them yesterday, and Mister Longbottom attempted to stop them this morning,” Minerva replied, as the group began to move towards the forbidden corridor. “The foolish children did not even think to tell us anything.”

“And would you have believed them if they did?” Albus questioned, brow raised.

“At the very least, I would have checked,” Minerva scowled at the man.

As they rounded the corner, a beat up Patil and unconscious Weasley met them. The rest of the morning passed by in a blur. Snape had Neville, Hermione, and Patil follow him to the hospital wing. Some time later, the other two adults showed up with a beaten and battered looking Potter, which the mediwitch fussed over for some time. All the while, Neville and Hermione had to recount how they found out everything they knew. 

By the time they were done, lunch had already passed, and Potter had not awakened. Weasley, unfortunately, had awoken and began to boast of what he did. How he sacrificed himself for his friends, the game of chess he played, how wicked the adventure was, to anyone who would visit him. With over exaggerated groans of pain, he would bemoan his injuries, and how being a hero was hard work. Hermione could barely stomach the arrogance and worship he received for his exploits. 

Even as she walked down to the dungeons to pack and get ready for the End of Year Feast, Hermione could only shake her head. She knew, deep down, that the Gryffindors would be rewarded for their acts of perceived heroism, and it irked her. Why should rule breakers, people who didn’t trust their own professors, be rewarded for distrust and willfully putting themselves into life and death situations? Hermione just did not understand. She entered the common room with a sigh.

“Where have you been all day?” Annalie asked within a moment of entering.

“I got wrapped up in a Saint Potter adventure,” Hermione sighed. “Before you ask, no I didn’t do anything stupid like actually going on the adventure, but I got dragged around as the professors went to save him, and then had to explain what I knew what felt like a million times.”

“Is that all?” Millie grinned from behind the fifth year. 

“You know, I told them all these different ways to go about it, but no, why listen to reason?” Hermione huffed, slumping onto the nearest sofa. “Gryffindors.”

“They are stupid,” Millie chuckled.

“Tell me about it,” Hermione rolled her eyes.

——————————————

“Are you sure they’ll get points out of it?” Draco whispered as they walked towards the great hall. 

“They’re Gryffindors who were trying to save the world, what do you think?” Hermione snorted in return.

“I hate Gryffindors,” the blonde boy mumbled. 

“I hate the favoritism they get,” Hermione huffed as they walked side by side.

“Do you want to know what I hate?” Pansy announced loudly. “When people whisper in front of me.”

“Poor thing, I guess you’ll just learn how to live with it,” Hermione smiled sweetly at the black haired girl. 

The others around them laughed, Millie shaking her head, Daphne chuckling all the while. However, Hermione kept her gaze locked with Pansy’s, not letting her win. A moment passed before the other girl rolled her eyes and huffing before moving on to some topic she read in Witch Weekly. Daphne talked with her, and soon, all was back to normal. They leaned back and waited for the feast to begin.

Hermione found all the Gryffindors back at their table, Neville a bit removed from the others. Weasley basked in the glory of quest completed, while Potter tried to keep a low profile. Patil chatted easily with Brown. Above their heads, silver and green decorated the hall, Slytherin banners running across the ceiling. They had won the House Cup for the moment, and the hall colors reflected it.

A loud clap resounded throughout the hall, all heads turned towards the sound to find the silver bearded head master smiling at them all, eyes sparkling. Hermione’s eyes narrowed at the man. She did not trust his smile, not for a minute. 

“Hello one and all, welcome to our annual End of Year Feast, where we celebrate our successful term, and look forward towards the a new start for the next year. Think of this, not as an ending, but a beginning. I want to congratulate Slytherin House for winning the House Cup for the seventh year running, a feat as great as their ambition and willingness to succeed.”

Boos and hisses were drowned out by the loud cheers of the snakes. Hermione and the first years joined, excitement pushing down the doubts and thoughts. She wanted to have this moment, before it was wiped out. It ended seconds later, as the headmaster announced the allocation of last minute points. He rewarded Potter for his willingness to sacrifice himself, Weasley for a well played game of chess, and Patil for her logic and ability to think. With each large point total, the Gryffindors gained, and the hall loudened. The very last of the points, given to Neville for his bravery in standing up to his friends, however, did not take the lead. Instead, it tied the lead with Slytherin House. Hermione watched the man up front with an intense gaze.

“And now, I suppose you have all realized that we are at something of a tie. A rare occasion indeed, however, I do believe it is a testament to what truly happened. This year, we saw great cooperation and community between all Houses, and both Slytherin and Gryffindor are equally deserving of the House Cup. So, I officially announce that this year, we have two winners. Slytherin House and Gryffindor House,” the headmaster exclaimed.

Everyone blinked, before cheering began to start, and, as the moments ticked by, it picked up until the hall rumbled with the sound of applause and congratulations. With another clap of his hands, Professor Dumbledore changed half of the banners from emerald and silver to gold and red. Hermione removed herself from the moment, observing the hall, the revelry, camaraderie, and colors. Just like Christmas, joy radiated from the students, excitement and happiness everywhere she looked. At that moment, Hermione knew she found her home in this world.

——————————————

“Do you have to say goodbye to everyone?” Pansy groaned when Hermione walked back into the Slytherin first year cabin.

“Of course, it’s only polite,” Hermione hummed, taking a seat between Daphne and Millie. “Besides, when else am I going to collect information?”

“What?” Vincent asked. “What would you find out on a train?”

“So many things, Vince darling,” the brunette witch smiled at the boy. “Very important, unique things.” 

“I don’t trust that smile,” Greg frowned. 

“You’re not supposed to,” Theo chuckled, looking up from his game of exploding snap. 

“It’s simple,” Hermione continued. “Don’t have secrets, and I won’t find them out.”

“And we wondered if you were a Slytherin,” Blaise laughed.

“I never did,” Mille grinned.

“Oh? Do tell,” Hermione asked, eyes alight with curiosity.

“Before we were even sorted, you were telling Draco off and getting him to shut up,” Millie answered, “Only a true Slytherin would be able to do that.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Draco drawled as he entered the cabin, settling by Blaise.

“It’s just who you are, Draco,” Hermione chuckled.

“And I know I’m amazing, thank you,” he smirked. 

“We never said anything different, did we?” Hermione demurred with a wicked grin.

“You act as if everything has to be spoken aloud,” Millie laughed. 

“Oh hush, Draco knows he’s one of my best friends,” Hermione grinned. “Though, I will count on your letters to keep me company over this holiday. It is going to be brutal. Mum wants me to start attending a few events.”

“Well, I guess we’ll just need to rescue you,” Daphne said, watching the boys play.

“Already on that,” Millie remarked. “Mum just needs good dates for when you want to come over. You know she adores you, and I’m sure the Southingtons will take you for a bit, too.” 

“Annalie already told me she just needs to confirm a few dates with her family,” the brunette nodded, hair bobbing with the motion.

“Does that mean we can do our girl’s summer get together at your house?” Pansy squealed. “We can do each other’s hair, and talk about girl stuff, oh I’m so excited!”

“Calm down, I need to ask my mum first,” Hermione laughed followed by a slight frown.

“I’m sure my mum will want to invite all of you over, too,” Draco interjected before Hermione could dwell on bad thoughts. “The Manor is big enough for all of us. We can go swimming or flying or maybe we could explore the grounds. Mum has a huge maze in her rose garden.”

So the musing of summer delights continued until their journey ended at King’s Cross. As they left the train, Hermione hugged her new friends good bye, promising to send letters and keep in touch. Even as she walked over towards the Malfoys with Draco, she felt like she walked on a cloud. She had people who liked her, who wanted her in their life, and who wanted to invite her over for part of the summer holiday. The prospect of a short summer was exciting, and nothing could dampen her spirits at that moment.

“Hello Miss Granger,” Lucius Malfoy addressed the giggling girl. “I hope your term went well.”

“It did, thank you sir,” Hermione chirped. “Although, I’m still wondering if I did enough for my bonus question in charms. I’m just not sure if I put enough detail.”

“We’ve been over this a hundred times, Hermione,” Draco moaned. “You probably put too much detail, meaning you got it right.”

“But what if Professor Flitwick will take off for it?” she turned towards the young blonde.

“Did he ever take off for too much detail before?” he raised a brow in challenge.

“Not that I can remember,” she chewed her bottom lip as she tried to remember.

“There! He won’t,” Draco threw open his arms. “And don’t ask how I know. Just remember I’m amazing, which is reason enough.”

Hermione stared at him, unimpressed and amused all at once. With a shake of her head, she turned towards the adults. She spoke to them with a gracious smile, thanking them for their kindness over the winter holidays and expressing the hope of seeing them before the next term. Mrs. Malfoy extended an invitation, to which Hermione beamed and thanked her. Before Hermione could say anything else, though, she spotted the familiar form of her care taker, Mrs. Hill, and bade good bye.

“Don’t be a stranger, Draco,” Hermione smiled at the boy. “You know I’ll write you.”

“Yeah, I know,” He smiled at her.

“And don’t do anything stupid,” Hermione continued watching the boy. “You get into silly accidents far too easily.”

“I tripped on that stair once,” he exclaimed. 

“And what about that cauldron?” She challenged him.

“Someone made it blow up,” he pouted.

“And the-” she began.

“Okay, okay, I get it, don’t get hurt in freakish accidents,” he rolled his eyes, walking with her towards Mrs. Hill.

“I’m going to miss you,” she said, voice very quiet. “So you have to write.”

Draco stopped and looked at the brunette beside him. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like, walking back into that house, into such a sad situation. She needed their support throughout her time in that house, and Draco knew it. Before he knew what he was doing, Draco found himself wrapping Hermione in a big hug.

“I’ll write, I promise,” the blond whispered. “And I’ll miss you, too.”

Hermione smiled as she hugged her friend right back. She was happy, and, for that moment, everything was right in the world. They separated awkwardly, as if remembering where they were and what was happening all at once.  

“So, I’ll see you around, yeah?” Draco asked, light blush on his cheeks.

“I’m sure we will,” Hermione smiled as she waved goodbye. 

For the first time in a long time, Hermione faced the daunting summer holiday with a big smile, and a bright heart, confident she would make it through alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has stuck with me through my breaks and such. I’m not updating as often right now, but I promise, I am working on the story and I do appreciate you guys. 
> 
> Here, I have a question: If I set up something like a PayPal button, GoFundMe, Patron type thing, would anyone actually use it? I’m not asking for money, it’s just been brought up to me, and I’m curious what you guys think. 
> 
> As always, thanks for everything you guys, and I love reading and responding to your comments. ^_^


	17. Summer Delights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione experiences her first summer after Hogwarts. Between dinners and friends, her life begins to change around her, even if she doesn't quite know it yet.

“I do not believe you understand how imperative it is that this goes as planned, Lucius,” Albus Dumbledore stated, staring at the blonde man across the ornate and cluttered table.

“Contrary to popular belief, I am perfectly cognizant of the importance of this plan’s success. I would not be sacrificing one of my best house elves for anything less, Dumbledore,” the elder Malfoy replied.

Severus watched with guarded curiosity as the two master schemers danced around the issue with expertly placed words and false smiles. He knew neither would want to work with the other if the situation were not as dire as the present. The stakes were high, which Severus disliked greatly. Even more so, the elegant wordplay tired him to no end. 

“And you are sure He wants to do this?” the old man raised his white eyebrow. 

“He believes it to be fully His idea. I have even voiced concern and worry over such a move,” the aristocrat reassured. “If the worst were to happen, He would be the only one to blame at this move. I have made sure of that. What concerns me at this point, Dumbledore, are the repercussions of such a move.”

“I am confident I can and will control the situation,” Albus smiled, benign and unassuming, at the men across from him. 

“And if not, what will you have me do?”

“We will discuss at such a time what will be the most pertinent move. I may need to leave for some time to research a few matters. If that situation were to arise, then I would need a way to leave the castle for some time in a natural and unassuming way,” the headmaster hummed.

“Of course,” Lucius graciously nodded as he stood. “I just request the safety of my child and godchild.” 

“And I will see to it that they, and every other entity under my care, will be safe and healthy at the year’s end, no matter what happens,” Albus replied. “Come now, we are all on the same side, no need for the hostility. Our ends are the same, and so we now combine our means.”

“Naturally, Dumbledore. Until next time,” Lucius said before he turned on his heel and left the office. 

At an amused glance from the headmaster, Severus rolled his eyes and soon followed. It felt like they were schoolboys, called up to the headmaster’s office. In such trips, Lucius would be polite and leave on a moment’s notice, leaving Severus behind, often not saying a word through the whole meeting. His long strides soon caught up to the blonde aristocrat as they walked towards his quarters is silence. 

“I now see why you dislike meetings with your headmaster,” Lucius growled upon the close of the door.

“It is a most vexing thing, yes,” Severus sat in his chair. 

“And to think that I would turn back on such a deal,” Lucius continued to vent, pacing in front. “I risk much by even thinking such a thing, it would be blasphemy if anyone found out too early. Even those who know of Miss Granger’s adoption would not guess this.”

“Indeed not,” the dark wizard sighed, amused and exasperated by his companion’s dramatics.

“Worse still is his whole idea of giving it to a child, a child, Severus,” the man exclaimed. “Of Him, I would not be surprised, but the ever loving, white Dumbledore, Merlin and Morgana!”

“I am afraid both kings upon the board are just as manipulative as the other,” Severus observed as he conjured his tumbler of firewhiskey and glasses. “The difference upon a chessboard is simply which side you prefer. Dumbledore’s secret is that he is just as pragmatic and resourceful as Him, and will use whatever means it takes to win.”

“Even unwitting sacrifice it would seem,” Lucius muttered, taking the proffered liquid. “It almost feels as if I haven’t changed sides.”

Severus simply murmured an incomprehensible reply as he stared at the cool flames crackling. He could not provide those answers to his friend. Not when he still questioned his own choices and motivations. Feeling, though, that he must say something on the matter, Severus thought for a few moments before turning to his dispirited friend.

“In the end, it depends upon what you want to achieve,” the dark wizard mused, “Even if their methods are startlingly similar, I believe the path that Dumbledore follows will be most advantageous and alike to what I wish to future to be. The times in which Draco grew up have been almost idyllic compared to our childhood, and I would like the world to be so in the future.”

Lucius turned his eyes towards his childhood friend. For a moment he could do nothing but stare as he processed the words. However, the truth in his words rung through Lucius’ mind. The time in which his son grew up in were peaceful, joyful, carefree. A wry, humorless smile grew on his face, back reclined into the chair behind him, legs crossed. 

“You may very well be onto something, Severus. Only time will tell, I suppose,” he replied, turning back towards the dancing flames.

——————————————

Hermione went through all her things one last time, crossing off a list in a spiral bound notebook. While parchment and dip quills were all good in the magical world, she found that pen and paper to be quite practical when in the muggle world. She didn’t want to appear too odd to most people, and often, when out with her care taker or her parents, she would draft letters in such a journal. 

She went through her checklist once more, and found that everything she laid upon her bed were ready to be put into her trunk. Draco assured her that they would make a trip to Diagon Alley once their school lists came in, and Annalie promised a bit of shopping, saying that no girl should be without a few new robes. 

As it was, school uniform and acceptable dresses, which were much like the magical robes, made up her wardrobe. Her books were stacked neatly, with past notes and studies painstakingly copied into her journal for future reference. Her wand, polished and shining, sat next to the care set and box, ready for transport. Indeed, all that was left was the shoebox she kept her letters hidden. 

Thankfully, all of her friends kept to their word, and, since the first night, she had a steady flow of letters to battle against her mother’s horrible words. Millie, Annalie, and Draco were her most constant correspondents, each detailing different things. Millie would talk about her mother and family, how they were excited to see her again this holiday, and the different things the other girls were doing. Annalie, conversely, sent her a stream of books and notes for her to look over, always asking Hermione her opinion on popular issues, both intellectual and frivolous. Draco, conversely, would go on about his grand adventures around his grounds or where he went to vacation. Most importantly, he detailed how he practiced for House quidditch try outs. 

A soft, nostalgic smile graced her face as she could see, in her mind’s eyes, the truth behind her friend’s words. Indeed, all they sent were a huge help to keeping her mother’s vicious words at bay. Her humming filled the air as she went about her packing, thinking how close she was to escaping this place. One more dinner, and then it would be over.

Hermione found it amusing how, at the Foundation events she did attend, at the very least Mrs. Malfoy and Draco were present. He had taken to shadowing her as she talked with the muggle children about their things, how school went for them, and what general news children of their age were concerned about. Often times, Draco would whisper her questions as they moved from group of children to the next, to which Hermione would answer. 

It pleased Hermione that the last of these events was a Foundation dinner. She found her relative popularity growing when the other children and adults realized her best friend to be the son of the founders. It made her mother unimaginably insufferable, however, as she tried to arrange ‘play dates’ with other children. However, only one more night before she left to the Southingtons. 

That is how Hermione found herself hours later, green dress swirling around her, as she walked and smiled around the room. Honey eyes darted about, hoping to find a familiar flash of blonde hair. She could not and before she knew it, her mother had snuck up behind Hermione.

“My dear, come with me. It appears that one of the ladies wishes for you to meet their son,” her mother beamed. “And as your friend is not here, we cannot have you all alone.”

“Yes, Mum,” Hermione sighed, obediently following the woman in front of her.

As with other times, the strange woman in front of her, a Mrs. Longton, had a son a year or two older than Hermione. She stood, bored and annoyed, unable to find amusement in the absurdities her mother presented. Instead, she wore her Slytherin mask, as Annalie taught her. She appeared interested and engaged when in reality her thoughts were far away.

“And Hermione, here, was top of her class this past year at Rutherford’s,” her mother puffed, proud of the invented achievement. 

“Did she? How wonderful,” the strange woman cooed. “And, Miss Hermione, what is it you want to do when you grow up? Become a dentist like your parents?”

“At this moment, I am simply focused on school and doing my best there,” she answered, demur and vague. 

“Why, what a smart outlook, indeed,” the other woman beamed.

“That is my delightful Hermione,” her mother agreed, cheshire smile upon her face. “Daniel, what is it you are most interested in as a potential career?”

“At this moment,” Daniel replied, brow raised. “I believe politics or becoming an attorney as interesting career options.”

Shrewd eyes observed the boy who stood next to his mother. Brown hair, meticulously brushed to one side, sat upon his head. Intelligent, equally bored green eyes shone from his face, as they scrutinized her. Hermione found that he had no mask, which she thought a silly mistake. If not for the hair color and lack of scar, the young witch could have imagined him to be Harry Potter.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” the boy continued to her as their mothers chattered away, “There is a rumor going about that you are friends with one of the founder’s son. Is that true?”

“This is true,” she said, bored and indifferent, yet always watching, ready to add more information to her mental profile of the boy. “Is there a particular reason you wanted to ask?”

“Well, you see,” Daniel began, “I’ve heard there’s something off about his family. Nothing bad, mind you, but not natural either.”

“How peculiar,” the murmured response, eyes sharpening in observation. “Is there something wrong with being different? Or is it a specific kind of oddity?”

“I don’t really know, I can’t say,” the boy shuffled his feet, making Hermione raise a brow. “You see, I’ve met them before and the boy and I never really got along. You seem like a nice enough girl. I just don’t want to see you caught up in whatever unnatural things they may be involved in.”

“Unnatural?” she huffed. “What kind of unnatural are we talking about? And where did you hear of these things? I’m sure that it’s someone jealous of their position.”

“Nothing specific, no need to be upset,” Daniel gave a small smile.

“Would you not be if one of your best friends and his family were being accused,” she rose a brow in retaliation.

“I suppose that is reasonable,” the concession before adding, with a shrug, “to be honest, I just don’t see what all the fuss is about. He’s another aloof rich kid that thinks he’s better than the rest of us. You, however, do not seem to have that problem, though.”

Hermione conceded, no matter how grudgingly or unwilling, Draco did have an air of superiority and disinterest. His lack of knowledge about the muggle world only exasperated these qualities. Yet, from the way he would eye the others, sometimes even her, she knew it to be part of his mask. Ego and pride did not allow for him to show weakness towards others, especially those he did not trust. 

Eyes narrowed in thought. When did it become customary for her stick by her friend’s side during the whole of an event? She disliked how the other kids would snub the blonde boy, how they would disassociate with him, simply because he disliked appearing ignorant. Before she knew it, Hermione found herself at his side, quietly explaining who Muffy was, what math entailed, current political leaders, even how royalty worked. He never asked, nor did she expect gratitude. Instead, grey eyes spoke volumes as she knew where to look and what for.

“I believe that it simply takes patience with Draco,” Hermione answered, unable to understand the sudden protective feeling that surged within her. “He is the best friend I could have asked for, and I am lucky to have him.”

“Interesting,” the boy across from her mused, his intense gaze fixed upon her. “I suppose it is a matter of perspective.”

“So it would seem,” murmured the uneasy girl. 

“There you are, Hermione,” a familiar voice called from behind her.

“I’ve been here the whole time,” she quirked a brow at the blonde who came behind her. 

“Mum had me walk around and play nice to the others before she allowed me to look for you,” a dramatic sigh answered. 

“As she should, Draco,” the brunette admonished him, a teasing smile reducing the sting. “You know she has your best interests at heart.”

As the two easily exchanged playful banter, the brunette boy watched them with an almost envious gaze. It did not escape him how the pretty girl had been, what he now knew to be, tense before. Perfect posture, chin held high, and spine straight appeared to be her normal state, yet the painfully straight shoulders, closely guarded expression and voice were not. With this blonde boy, the girl smiled and emoted more freely, joked with heart, and had genuine interest. She was smart, clever, and had caught his interest.

“Blaise and Theo asked after you,” Draco continued, as if Hermione never said a word.

“Oh? And how are my favorite Italian and bookworm?” she grinned.

“Causing enough trouble for our house el- servants to complain,” he snickered at the memory.

“Boys, really,” a roll of her eyes and then, “So, Daniel and I were talking just before you came.” Sharp grey eyes snapped to the boy all but forgotten. Daniel shuffled under the scrutiny, unused to such a calculating look from one his age “And he told me that you are aloof with a superiority complex.” 

A blonde brow rose in response.

“Oh, don’t give me that look, Draco,” a soft, melodic chuckle followed. “I told him it takes patience. This is why your Mum wants you to talk to others.”

“You don’t say,” he drawled, eyes never leaving the boy. “Is that what you really think?”

Daniel could not, for the life of him, breathe. How could this girl laugh and tease so freely with this boy? He froze, mind unable to fully comprehend how he got himself into this situation. Perhaps this was the ‘unnatural’ ability of the family. He dared not look away, not even a quick glance at the girl. A hard gulp went to the bottom of his stomach, which clenched.

“Come off it, Draco,” Hermione chuckled, amusement evident in her voice as a hand landed on the blonde’s shoulder. “You are scaring the boy.”

“I’m not afraid,” Daniel retorted, spell broken as soon as the grey eyes left his. “Why should I be?”

“Not even if they had oddities or unnatural abilities?” Hermione quirked a brow in challenge.

“No, it’s nothing I couldn’t handle,” the brunette boy flippantly answered, crossing his arms across his chest.

“Good,” she chirped. “As that has been settled, I must take my leave of you, Mr. Longton.”

“Miss Granger,” he gave a slight bow before turning away.

“What was that about,” the blonde boy asked, barely heard by the brunette boy.

“Something we need to talk to your parents about,” she whispered, “Now.”

The pair parted, leaving Daniel with an odd feeling. He did not understand why, but the sight of them together irked the boy. He, as well as everyone else, saw how inseparable the pair became over the past few weeks. With a shrug, the boy dismissed the ideas and went to his friends. Perhaps something they were doing something interesting. 

Across the room, Hermione found herself in front of the Malfoys, a gracious smile upon her face. Both decided to attend this evening, which she could not be more pleased about. She found it odd how easily she slipped into Slytherin life, how chatting with the Malfoys felt easier than her own parents.

“I found some boy talking to her, and I knew I had to come to the rescue,” puffed the boy next to her.

“I never realized I was a damsel in distress,” she retorted, amused smirk on her face.

“No one said anything about distress, Hermione,” he grinned back. “Anyways, so we talked a bit, and that boy tried to convince himself that he wasn’t afraid of me. Then, Hermione said something odd, about unnatural abilities or oddities.”

“The boy, Daniel Longton, mentioned it to me,” she shrugged. “He said that there were people who said that you all had, and he didn’t want me to be, and I quote ‘caught up in whatever unnatural things they may be involved in’.”

Silence echoed through the small group as laughter and chatter bubbled around them. Each lost in thoughts of who had seen some semblance of magic. Neither of the children could even fathom, only just joining in family activities this past year. What worried each varied, however, caught in this contemplative moment, Elizabeth Granger found Hermione.

“Hermione, dear, I finally found you,” the woman gave a crocodile smile. “Mrs. Longton was asking after you, and her son appeared most put out that you left so suddenly.”

“I apologize for my sudden departure, Mother,” the distant response. “I hope Mrs. Longton is not too upset about it. As you can see, Draco found me and, after talking with Mr. Longton, I found it prudent to find and greet the Malfoys.”

“Naturally, dear, but now that you are done,” the woman shot an accusing glare at the blonde pair, “I believe it is time to return to proper company.”

“Doctor Granger, I find it particularly rude how you find it advantageous to speak ill of the founders of this organization,” Lucius’ cool, silky voice broke the tension. “In fact, if I didn’t know any better, I would think that you did not want to be part of this organization. However, I must be mishearing, of course.”

“Naturally, Mr. Malfoy,” the dentist gave a tight smile. “I simply would like the company of my daughter as we go around meeting other members of this prestigious organization.”

“If you are to make rounds, why don’t Draco and I join?” Narcissa smiled, cold and bright. “I am sure that there can be no disagreement here.”

“None whatsoever, Mrs. Malfoy,” the venomous growl of the brunette woman answered.

“Well then, come along children,” the blonde woman said, contemptuous glare aimed at the dentist.

The rest of the dinner party passed in a comfortable blur. Perhaps the most exciting bit of the dinner was knowing that her parents would not be returning home with her. As Annalie and her mother would be flooing into the  house. Simpering smiles and whispered words covered her wandering mind for the rest of the night. Her customary closeness to the blonde Slytherin next to her calming her until the end of the night. As she laid in bed, awake due to both anticipation and anxiety, Hermione could not shake the feeling that this would not be the last she saw of the Longtons. With a final mental shrug, she turned over in her sleep, excited for the next day.

——————————————

As promised, Annalie and Natalie Southington met her at the quarter nine. Eager arms wrapped around her mentor and bid hello to her mother. They talked for a few minutes, before bidding Mrs. Hill a good day and floo’ing to the Southington manor.

“That is the most disorienting experience I have ever been through,” Hermione stated, voice wobbly as she landed.

“It takes some getting used to, little snake,” Annalie smirked, amusement glinting in her eyes.

“How do you get out so gracefully?” the brunette pouted.

“Practice makes perfect,” the only response.

She huffed, following the laughing soon-to-be sixth year towards her room. As before, the few personal items she left behind were still there, as if it were her room. A wistful smile graced her small lips, Hermione lightly touching the surfaces of the room. A quick nod and, she began to unpack for the next few minutes. 

“Ah, there is my favorite snakelette,” a deep voice called out as Hermione made her way towards the table some time later. 

Thus the ‘family’ reunion begun for the evening. Between anecdotes of summer engagements and parties, Hermione felt herself at home with the Slytherin family. Witty retorts and sly allusions colored the conversation, lulling a full, happy Hermione for the first time since the end of term. She smiled, open and unguarded.

——————————————

“You didn’t see how that-that muggle looked at her,” Draco exclaimed for the nth time.

Blaise rolled his blue eyes at his blonde friend’s dramatics. The Italian boy didn’t know who was more dramatic; Draco or his mother, and that was saying something. Theo, playing with a quaffle, simply shook his head. Ever since the day before, Draco could do nothing but complain about that ‘stupid, inbred muggle boy,’ he so charmingly put it.

“Why does it bother you so much?” Vincent grumbled, plucking a scone from the tray.

“I-It doesn’t,” a blush rose in Draco’s cheeks.

“That’s convincing,” snorted Theo. 

“I just don’t like it,” sulked the blonde boy. “You didn’t see her mum, either. She pushing the boy on her like she was some sort of trophy for him to collect.”

“I can’t imagine ‘Mione took well to that,” Greg hummed, a half eaten biscuit in his hand.

“She can’t do anything about it,” groused Draco. 

“What do you mean?” Blaise inquired, interest piqued at such an ominous statement.

“Just, I can’t,” the boy stumbled with words. “She’s- It’s her secret, really. All you can know is that her mum is horrible, but it’s okay. She went to the Southingtons today.”

Blue eyes narrowed onto grey, trying to read his face. For the first time in his life, Blaise could not make out what Draco, his best friend for twelve years, felt. While apprehension and fear glittered on the surface, he only saw glimpses of deeper thoughts and emotions. A small frown marred his features as he thought what this could mean. As the other boys shrugged, switching subjects as quickly as possible, Blaise promised to confront Draco at a later time. For the moment, though, he let the matter lie.

For the rest of the afternoon, the boys played outside, no longer sparing a thought. Draco practiced for the quidditch house team. As the hours passed to supper and the evening, they speculated on what the rest summer, what they would do, where they would go. The next day would bring more sunshine and light, with an announcement that delighted all of them.

“We are having a small luncheon with some of your classmates,” Narcissa Malfoy delighted with a clap.

The faces lit up immediately, chattering about who would come. All throughout the morning, the boys babbled together until they gathered. What felt like minutes later, the girls and their parents started to emerge from the floo. Daphne and her little sister, Astoria, burst through first, babbling and giggling the whole time. Next, Pansy and Tracy Davis, a halfblood girl a year young, came through. Soon, it felt like half of the house and their siblings had arrived, with no sign of the Southingtons. 

Blaise talked with everyone, his usual fun, charming nature on full display. Voices babbled over one another as adults chatted in the drawing room and the children milled about the drawing room adjacent. Every time the bell tingled, the dark haired Slytherin noted his friend snap towards the sound. Once or twice, Blaise felt for his neck, hoping it would not break. 

“Waiting for someone, Drake?” Pansy crooned, hoping to take his attention.

“Have you seen Hermione yet?” the blonde asked, oblivious to the dark haired girl’s pout.

“No, why do you care?” she whined.

“Well, she’s my best friend, and I just wanted to see how she was,” he shrugged. “Last I checked, she is your friend, too.”

“Yeah, but, I mean,” she started only for the floo bells to tinkle, revealing the brunette in question.

“Oh, there she is,” beamed Draco as he stood up and hurried to the door. 

As he stood to follow, Blaise noticed how Pansy glared at the girl, eyes narrowed in deep thought. While yes, he felt a prickle of jealousy at their close friendship, the look on the other girl’s eye frightened him. He didn’t want anything bad to happen to her simply because Draco liked her better than Pansy. To be honest, Blaise knew that Greg had something of a crush on Pansy. Maybe, in the future, he could use this all to his advantage. They were only twelve, for Merlin’s sake.

“It’s not like we could have rescued you sooner,” Millie giggled at the exasperated faces of the blonde boy and brunette witch. “Annalie and I tried, you know.”

“I know, but those parties,” Hermione’s face scrunched in distaste and turned. “Pansy, Blaise, Draco!”

She hugged each person laughing and saying hello to each. At this blatant show of genuine affection, Pansy’s face softened. Blaise smiled, happy to see what that, no matter the situation, his new friend was glad to see him. Something most people didn’t understand about Slytherins was the feeling of kinship or camaraderie. If Pansy decided to be smart, and Blaise hoped for it, then she will not make a mess of this.

“So, how has your summer been, Hermione,” Blaise grinned at the muggle-born. 

“It could have been better,” a delicate shrug answered. “Then again, Mother could have demanded more.”

“More?” the inquisitive question.

“Of course,” she smiled. “More parties or events or people to meet. Or even an arranged marriage.”

The small group of people shuddered all at once. 

“She would pick that wanna be Potter,” spat Draco. 

A warm laugh filled the air as Hermione clutched her side. They all watched her in wonder, aside from the disgusted blonde. Her eyes sparkled as if she had some great secret, and, for the moment, Blaise felt caught in her honey eyes. A small smile bloomed on Draco’s face, unable to be upset in the face of Hermione’s laughter. 

“That’s what I thought when I saw him,” she puffed between giggles.

“What exactly did you think, Miss Granger?” a cool baritone interrupted the small scene.

“Hello, Professor Snape,” the children chorused.

“My mother introduced me to a muggle boy who looked just like Harry Potter, just without the scar and with brown hair,” Hermione chirped.

“And that’s funny, how?” A single quirked brow the only change in his stoic expression.

“The thought of me having an arranged marriage with Potter,” Hermione stated, trying hard not to dissolve into giggles.

“Quite,” he bit out before bidding adieu to the young snakes.

“Do you really think your mother would make you marry one of them?” Pansy asked, frown on her face. 

“Yes,” Hermione, Millie, and Draco answered as one. 

“You sound rather sure about that,” Blaise ventured, watching the three with interest.

“Because I know my mother,” Hermione bitterly sighed. “Anyways, that’s enough of that. I want to go find Adrian and Marcus, see if there’s anything I can get from them before the next thing.”

With that, the group of soon-to-be second years scampered through the drawing room to find future delights and amusements.

——————————————

Summer slipped away from Hermione. She spent much of her time in Southington Manor with the ladies. They visited a few different wizarding villages in England and one in France, much to her surprise and enjoyment. The elder boys helped teach her to dance and play, all the while making her feel like she had a family. Annalie beamed at her protege, happy at the progress the girl had made. 

Weeks swept by and soon the scene changed. From the Southington’s south English manor and grounds to the Bulstrode northern home. Millie and Hermione, thick as thieves, explored the house and grounds. As an only girl, Millie’s family welcomed another with open arms. At each social engagement, Hermione charmed, keeping her friend company and helping her all the while.

It was not long until they, along with most of their year mates, were sent off to Malfoy Manor for the last few weeks of Summer. When their school lists came in, eyes lit up as talk of nothing but sweets and books filled the air. Mostly sweets, as Hermione dreamed of the books. With some luck, mild manipulation, and outright threats, the Malfoy’s and a few other parents, herded the students to the floo. 

“Draco, Miss Granger, if you would please come with me,” Lucius imperiously instructed, both children simply nodding. 

As the gaggle of children dwindled down, Narcissa made way towards her husband. She watched how they interacted and smiled. She knew that Lucius took his duties as godfather seriously, never having the honor before. He smiled at the girl, indulgent and amused, as her son tried to take her attention away from someone else. She decided it a good thing that the girl was now protected. 

“Why are we to go to Knockturn Alley, Mister Malfoy?” Hermione tilted her head to the side.

“I have some things to sell, Miss Granger,” he sighed. “Alas, the Ministry is on a war path for dark artifacts. They believe that the most dangerous would be used to injure or kill the unprepared, and want to punish those they feel are ‘bad’ or ‘dark’.”

“That hardly seems fair,” the girl remarked, face in a frown.

“Unfortunately, life is nothing but unfair,” the blonde man chuckled. “No, I fear that the most important are already in the family vaults. These that I wish to sell were naught but oddities my father sought to collect. Of course, the Ministry and several different officials would think that we are nothing but horrible people ready to kill any who cross us in plain daylight.”

“Well, that’s just plain silly,” the factual statement. “If you wanted to kill someone, there are far more subtle ways that would leave little to no actual trace. What’s the point of parading around with a cursed object to the job when a simple potion or spell would do the trick, and far more anonymously at that?”

The family stared at the brunette in a mixture of wonder, incredulity, and interest. Hermione, however, thought of all that she heard. Of course, in times of peace, people want to feel safe. She, therefore, could not call this time a true peace. It felt what she imagined the Muggle cold war would have, as if something lurked in the shadows just waiting to strike. So, she reasoned, the Ministry must be trying to calm fears and bring those that have the history to ‘justice.’ All a pile of rubbish and propaganda, if Hermione were to be honest.

“Remind me not to get on your bad side,” Draco muttered, shaking his head.

“Indeed,” the elder Malfoy agreed.

“But you already know that, Draco,” Hermione rolled her eyes at the blonde boy.

“Now, now children, we must go. First to Gringotts and then to Borgin and Burkes,” Lucius chuckled, herding the pair toward the fireplace.

“Remember, speak clearly,” Draco instructed.

“As if I don’t enunciate,” retorted the brunette. “I’m not Greg or Vince, Draco.”

“You never know,” he laughed and, in a flare of green fire, left.

She shook her head, and turned towards the adults with a sweet smile before taking a pinch of floo powder and following her friend. Narcissa rose a single, manicured eyebrow at her husband her flashed her a dazzling smile before kissing her and stepping through himself. Lucius knew that his wife would be more than interested to discuss the earlier conversation, and simply wanted to get through the day of shopping in a crowded Diagon Alley. 

“Now, Draco, please escort Miss Granger,” he beamed, dusting off any soot left on his robes.

As the children before him rolled their eyes, but complied, Lucius felt it prudent to inform them to keep close. They did just that, all the while chattering about things. As in the Manor, Draco explained the things he could to Hermione. It created a colorful, amusing commentary of the alley in general, which Lucius found refreshing. When informed of the raids, Severus warned of certain items and what exactly they would define as ‘dark,’ as the law left room for interpretation.

The small group walked into the grand marble halls of the wizarding bank. Lucius watched Hermione with masked interest, seeing how she would take the opulent surroundings. Her face remained impassive, as if this were an everyday occurrence, which pleased the man greatly. Her lessons, while still in progress, were proving to be effective. The only hint of interest were her eyes, darting around the room as surreptitiously as she could manage. 

“I am here to go into my vault as well as Miss Granger’s,” the blonde man declared to the crooked goblin. 

“Of course, Lord Malfoy,” the goblin smiled, sharp, yellow teeth creating a gruesome image. “However, I will need the key for Miss Granger’s vault.”

“Here it is, sir,” she politely stepped forward, small golden key dangling from a thin chain.

Her hand twitched, longing to say something, anything else. She wanted to tell the disturbing creature to go to a different vault, to that of her adoptive parents. Perhaps then, the creature would not look at her as naught but a disgusting thing. The gleam in it’s eyes reminded her too much of her mother’s. She shook off the stare and copied the man in front of her; chin up, eyes down, and with a poise that granted no comment. 

“Everything seems in order, Sir, Madam, if you will please,” and soon the ugly thing skittered away.

The small party walked away before stepping into a small mine cart. Reminded of a particularly nauseating rollercoaster from a muggle amusement park, Hermione gripped Draco’s arm tightly, hoping to not let go and accidentally fall out. The ride soon stopped, as it announced the arrival at a large vault, obviously new and near the surface. On wobbly legs, the young witch made her way towards the vault where a few large piles of coins greeted her. It took naught but a moment to scoop more than enough into a pouch before she left.

As they took once more to the rails, Hermione’s head whipped back and forth, her stomach flew into her mouth more than once and they zipped past what looked to be a dragon. At one point, water cascaded over her head, leaving her spluttering, momentarily wet and outraged. Draco laughed at her expense, enjoying the ‘drowned rat’ look. If looks could killed. He laughed harder.

“Now, now children, do calm down,” the blonde man smirked as the cart took another abrupt turn before dropping further. 

It took some time before they finally slowed to a stop in front of an ancient looking door. The goblin hopped out, followed by the three humans. Hurried, hobbled steps lead them towards the door, where the creature held out it’s hand. Hermione watched in wonder as it worked without a wand, it’s hand waving in a hypnotic pattern. Loud locks creaked, the sound of stone and metal grinding within the walls the only sound until the door swung open. Within, a vault far larger than any room she ever been in spread out around her. Gold and jewels twinkled in the lights that suddenly ignited, lighting the whole of the chamber.

“Wow,” she whispered. “When you said you were rich, I had no idea.”

Draco beamed at his friend, amused and pleased at her speechless state more than anything else. She stared around her, curiosity and excitement as he slowly showed her different parts of the vault -at least, the areas he was allowed to wander. All the while, Lucius went towards a discrete part towards one of the walls, opening a chest. He deposited a few different items and pocketed a small black journal. He allowed an expression of apprehension, wondering just what the headmaster planned for such a small item. 

“Aww, but look at it, Draco, your first broom,” he heard Hermione coo at her son, quickly over her shock, he noticed. 

“Well, at least it’s just my toy broom,” he muttered.

“Look at the pictures, though,” she grinned as the man made his way towards the children.

“What?! Why are they here,” Draco whined, trying to take the pictures from the brunette witch.

“For safe keeping, of course, son,” the silky explanation. 

“You really were a cute baby, Drakie,” she hummed, impersonating the Parkinson girl. 

“Ew, never call me that again,” his son growled.

“I guess it just doesn’t fit, does it,” she pondered, a teasing gleam in her eye as she flipped to the next page of photographs.

“We have other errands to run, children,” _as amusing as staying here would be,_ he mentally finished. 

“Yes Mister Malfoy,” Hermione beamed, placing the album back whence it came from.

“Let’s just get out of here,” his boy nearly dragged the girl out.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say the great Draco Malfoy is embarrassed of his baby photos,” Hermione hummed aloud, her pace matching his.

“Because they are embarrassing,” Draco whined, unable to speed up either the girl or his father.

“Do you have any fun stories, Mister Malfoy,” she innocently turned towards him, her eyes the only tell. 

“I believe that is something my wife would be more than happy to share with you, Miss Granger,” he smiled down at the two young Slytherins. “I would never withhold such a pleasure from either of you.”

“You are very kind,” she smiled as his son groaned.

Together, and after much time, they emerged once more into the bright light of the alley. The crowds swelled as school aged children of all backgrounds flooded the street. He carefully steered the children, making them walk ahead, as they wound their way towards Knockturn Alley. Bright light dimmed, corners appeared grimier, darker than before, and strange haggard people flitted along the side.

Nonetheless, the children kept his example of high held noses and subtle glances around them, not paying attention to the lowlives on the street. Within a moment, his son opened the door to one of the stores, ushering in the girl as etiquette dictated. Lucius followed with a nod before going to he desk. Hermione watched all of this with nary a word. Just by the rigid stance of both blondes, Hermione guessed this to be an unsafe area. She treated it as such.

“Draco, Miss Granger, do not touch anything,” the sharp, warning tone clear for both pre-teens. 

“Come on,” Draco muttered, holding his arm out for her once more.

“Tell me again why you need to escort me in a store where we’re the only patrons?” Hermione rolled her eyes, taking the offered arm.

“Because Mum and Dad would kill me, and guilt you,” he retorted.

“True,” she mused. “Though, your mother scares me much more than your father.”

“As she should,” Draco snorted in response, eyeing the different dark artifacts on the shelves.

“What’s this?” Hermione murmured, looking at an ornate, wood cabinet, leaving Draco behind as she shuffled past several aisles. 

“Just don’t touch anything, Hermione,” she heard Draco call out to her. “I don’t want my mother to kill me. I think she likes you almost as much as she likes me.”

“I hardly believe that,” she chuckled before reassuring her friend. “Don’t worry, I’m not daft. I won’t touch anything.”

With that, she found herself in front of the piece of furniture. It appeared to be normal enough. Wooden, with worn gold leafing on certain carved leaves. None of that caught her attention, though, it was the way the door appeared to be open if nothing more than a crack. A flicker of movement drew her towards it, and, without knowing why, Hermione kept herself ‘busy.’ She didn’t want to look as if she were blatantly observing it, for whoever or whatever would most likely spook easily.

She looked from an opal necklace to the Hand of Glory right in front of the cabinet. A familiar flash of emerald green caught her notice, and she swore under her breath. How, in the name of all things good and holy, Potter found himself _here_ and unaccompanied baffled the Slytherin. She inched closer, just so that, if she whispered while looking at something, she looked to be talking to herself.

“For Merlin’s sake, Potter, how the hell did you end up in Knockturn Alley,” her voice hissed, agitated and curious.

“G-Granger?” he stuttered.

“Yes, now keep your voice down, idiot,” she whispered, face neutral with detached interest. “Look, I don’t care, just wait until we leave the store. The Alley is to the left. Stay in the shadows, avoid the hags.”

He barely gave thank you before Draco found her. He began chattering about the things he found, and how awful some of them were. All the while, Hermione kept the blonde’s back to the cabinet, giving her own commentary on the few objects that caught her interest. A few moment passed before they heard the eldest Malfoy call for them. A roll of his eyes, and Draco extended his arm towards her, which she gripped with just as much exasperation. 

“You’d think we were in Victorian times with all of this arm holding and escorting nonsense,” Hermione muttered as they emerged from the dark alleyway. 

“Might as well be,” Draco shrugged, following Lucius towards Florish and Blotts. 

“At least we’re going to the book store. I took a few extra galleons out, and, with some luck, I’ll be able to get a few new books,” she grinned, a dreamy expression on her face.

“I don’t know if that will be possible, Miss Granger,” the amused voice of Lucius broke her momentary reverie. “It appears that your new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor mandated the whole of his published works.”

“I saw that,” a small frown worked it’s way onto her lips. “Mister Malfoy, do you know Professor Lockhart?”

“Not personally, no,” the man responded, as both second years waited for more. “Aside from his books, I have heard nothing particularly exemplary of his exploits.”

“Curious,” Hermione murmured. “You’d think that there would be more about it. To do what he has, Professor Lockhart must be quite the wizard.”

“So one would assume” the blonde man chuckled at the look of distaste and annoyance on his son’s face.

“You can’t really think that, Hermione, “ as if on cue, the boy turned towards his friend. “it’s not like they could prove he did those things.”

“Are you jealous?” Hermione raised a brow, a small, amused smile playing upon her lips.

“No, what do I have to be jealous of?” he squeaked a denial. 

“I don’t know,” she placed a finger on her chin. “He is quite handsome, and Witch Weekly does praise his smile. I heard that, amongst other things, he is powerful as well.” 

“Well, if you like him so much, why don’t you marry him,” Draco pouted, looking away from his friend, a strange feeling flaring in his chest all the while.

“No one said anything about liking him romantically,” she giggled at her friend, patting his arm. “I am simply pointing out his perceived accomplishments. Though, why is the store so crowded?”

“It appears your professor is holding a book signing today,” Lucius sighed. “Stay close, children, we do not want to get separated. If we do, stick together.”

They nodded and shoved their way into the store. The front aisle proved a challenge, as Hermione and Draco tried to keep up with Lucius to no avail. They fell back and, instead, struck out into a random line of shelves, hoping to get away from the scarily rabid pack of middle aged witches. A single glance made them both burst out laughing. Banter flowed easily between the pair as they picked up baskets before hunting for their school books. It took them a quarter of an hour to run into Lucius once more. By that time, they had most of their things, as well as an extra couple books on Hermione’s side.

“Come then, we still need your DADA books. I believe they are this way,” Lucius led once more.

“Look what we have here, Harry,” an annoying voice stopped Hermione in her tracks, the Malfoy males looking towards the wound. “The Slytherin muggle and Malfoy.”

“Ron, just calm down,” Potter muttered, trying to tug the redhead away.

“I bet they are going to sell their things, just to keep out of Azkaban, where they belong,” the Weasley boy spat, stink eye fixed on the girl. 

“I would call it a pleasure to see you again,” Hermione began, voice cold and unfeeling. “But that would be a lie.” She gave a nod at Potter, which he returned. Beside him stood a girl, red hair and freckles matching the Gryffindor to Potter’s side. “You must be a Weasley as well?”

“And what of it?” She spat, pretending to be brave.

“Nothing at all,” Hermione raised her brow. _Quick tempered, strong willed,_ she mentally filed. “Just an observation. As you can tell, your brother and I do not get along.”

“Don’t listen to her, Ginny, she’s nothing but a dirty muggle,” Weasley growled, his eyes glaring at her once more. 

“Ron? Ginny? Harry?” a man, about Lucius’ age called out as he made his way towards the group. “Lucius.”

“Arthur,” the blonde rather stiffly greeted the other man. “I see your youngest son has yet to learn manners.”

“Ronald, what did you do?” the man asked with a frown.

“Nothing,” he shouted. “She -she-“

“Pointed out your sister is, indeed, your sister,” Draco rolled his eyes, smirking at the boys.

“Quite rudely, I must add,” Hermione shrugged, arms crossed over her chest.

“Apologize this instant, Ron, and don’t think your mother won’t hear about this,” the elder Weasley instructed with a stern voice. 

“But Dad, she’s a Slytherin,” he whined, as if it were reason enough.

“Now, Ronald,” the man ground out.

After a moment of trepidation, Weasley finally faced Hermione, a dangerous glint in his eye.

“I am sorry you are worthless,” he spat at length.

The adult Weasley gasped, calling his name. Potter shook his head, trying to pull his friend back and talk sense. Lucius narrowed his eyes onto the unfortunate child. Son of Molly Weasley or not, the boy had some guts to talk to her like that in front of all of them. The girl’s eyes flickered back and forth, brow furrowed in thought, while his own son lunged forward. The chain of events were perfect, and, as the girl Weasley’s cauldron fell, he slipped the black journal into the pages of one of his books.

That doddering headmaster better be prepared for the fallout he was about to cause, because Lucius intended to place the blame squarely at his feet for anything that came beyond this point. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I was stuck for some time on this. I didn't know quite what to write, how to make it go forward, nor how much to put in. I decided I wanted a muggle or two that Hermione's mother would use to her own end -yay for the Longton family! Then, I wanted some house interaction, along with some canon. It ended up longer than I thought it would, which is always fun. I think you guys can get some ideas of what's happening. It should be a fun year, right?
> 
> In other news, I just moved, which, in addition to holidays, made this a long time coming. Also, I'm trying to update all my stories so people aren't waiting on those. I encourage you guys to check them out! A quick plug for my current WIP stories: 
> 
> 'Professor Slughorn: Matchmaker Extraordinaire' - A humorous AU of 6th year, where Slughorn decides to play matchmaker. It has both Dramione and Lovebottom (Luna/Neville), and is a bit light-hearted and cute. 
> 
> 'Elementary My Dear Malfoy' - EWE? (Epilogue, what epilogue?) 8th year fic where Hermione and Draco are assigned to work together on a muggle studies assignment. It's a different take on post-war Hermione and is more fun and amusing than dramatic and angsty. 
> 
> In addition to those stories, I have at least two future Dramione stories outlined and am deciding if I want to write/release any of them quite yet (or if I want to wait until one of my other ones are finished. This is the most likely outcome; write the others, but don't release them until a current WIP story is done). I don't have names for all of them, but here is a quick overview:
> 
> 'The Great Resorting' - Another EWE? 8th year AU where everyone comes back for the 8th year, and all the students are resorted. Instead of the sorting hat taking personal preference into consideration, people are sorted where they belong regardless of blood, name, or pleading. Should be fun to have people shuffled around, no? 
> 
> 'A Marriage of Convenience' - AU starting at the beginning of 5th Year. So, it takes almost all canon into consideration, and is viewed from Hermione's perspective. Dumbledore manipulates Voldie into binding Draco and Hermione into an ancient type of marriage, which both are tricked into. How everything unfolds. This is a bit more angsty, with teen angst (Harry circa 5th book), a too handsy Ron, thrown in with extra lessons with Snape and Malfoy. Full disclosure - totally have this one 100% outlined.
> 
> So, why did I tell you guys about these stories? Partially because I wanted to share these ideas with people who are interested in the same things. Partially because I am interested in your thoughts and ideas. Partially because I'm super excited to write them. In reality, I have so many ideas, that I'm just bursting to share them. I hope you guys take some time to read my current stories, as well as share your thoughts on my other stories. As always, I am happy to talk to you all, take your thoughts into account, and respond to any comments left here. I hope every single one of you continue to enjoy this and all future stories I publish on this site.
> 
> Thank you!


	18. Flying Under the Radar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the way to Hogwarts for second year, Hermione saw a most curious sight. Second year, it seemed, started off with a bang.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gah. I take so long to write everything! I apologize, and love each and every comment I get. Thank you guys for being loyal and reading! Your reviews make my day, and make me smile. I hope I make you guys smile, too. =)

Trees blurred together as Hermione read a new book set upon her lap. Laughter, shouts, and snickers became a most calming soundtrack to her Hogwarts Express experience. Between Pansy and Daphne running through the train, carrying the newest gossip to their second year Slytherin compartments, the boys playing a loud game of exploding snap, and Millie commenting on everything going on around them, a fond smile played upon her face. 

“I do believe it is time to make my rounds,” Hermione grinned at her friends after the trolly lady left.

“Do you need to?” Draco whined, grey puppy eyes wide, lower lip pouting.

“Of course,” Hermione laughed at her friend’s antics. With a wink, she added, “But, I’ll be back soon.”

Snickers and snorts followed her out into the cramped corridor. She walked by, slowly and quietly, taking in what gossip could be heard through compartment doors and open crevices. When finding a ‘study group’ member, Hermione stuck her head in, greeting them with cordial smiles and invitations to meet the following year. The apparent disappearance of two particular Gryffindors struck her, as she waded through most of the train.

Towards the back, Hermione stumbled upon the red head girl from Florish and Blotts, who sat, listening quite earnestly to Neville. The boy in question held his toad and motioned between the train and the amphibian with obvious enthusiasm.

“Hello Neville,” the brunette beamed at one of her earliest friends.

“Oh, hey there Hermione,” the Gryffindor grinned. “This is Ginny Weasley.”

“We met once,” she chuckled. “Not the most positive first impressions, but the experience was memorable, nonetheless.” Feet walked into the empty compartment as she settled across from the girl. “I would like to apologize, though. I’m Hermione, Hermione Granger.”

“Hermione helps me find Trevor all the time, even in the oddest places,” Neville explained, smile still on his face. All the while, Ginny’s face went from surprise to disbelief, to wonder. “Even if she’s a Slytherin, she tend to keep most of her friends from pranking me. She even has a group of us that studies together in the library three times a week! Don’t let Ron’s jealousy fool you.”

“I-Is it true that you threw pies into Fred and George’s faces?” the shy ginger asked, head tilted to the side.

“They threw it at me first,” Hermione huffed, small smirk softening her words. “I just kind of turned it on them and got them back.”

“Wicked!” Ginny exclaimed.

So the unlikely trio began to talk of their holidays, their times, and such, the train moving closer to Hogwarts all the while. A niggling of something tickled the back of Hermione’s brain as she talked to her surprisingly pleasant god sister. Unlike the Weasley in her year, Hermione noted that girl, once passed her shy streak, to be mischievous and amusing. 

“Apparently, they kept him locked up like a dog,” the red head girl whispered, recounting her story to a captivated audience, “Bars on his window, things under the stairs, and a flap for food.”

“How did you lot get him out?” Neville asked, curious tilt to his head.

“Oh, Fred and George went with Ron,” Ginny waved off. “Took Dad’s Ford Anglia and went to his house. They hooked up the back to the bars, and pulled them off without their wands or anything. Naturally, the sound got his family all worked up, and they tried to take pull him back. Can you imagine? Luckily, they boys were able to get him back and home before dawn.”

“What kind of car did you say it was?” the brunette snake inquired, blinking a few times.

“A Ford Anglia, whatever that means,” Ginny shrugged.

“Is it baby blue with a white top?” a stunned Hermione asked, eyes wide.

“Yeah,” the girl enthused. “Dad fixed it up so it can drive and fly. It can even become invisible!”

“Does it have white wall tires?” continued the brunette girl.

“How do you know,” Ginny tilted her head, words slow as she examined the older girl.

Neville, who followed Hermione’s gaze, gaped in surprise and horrified wonder. No sound came from his mouth as it worked up and down as if to talk. Instead, Ginny’s eyebrow rose as it traced a line from Neville’s pudgy, outstretched finger as it pointed out the window. Her jaw dropped. The compartment, in total, shocked silence watched as a flying car careened through the air right next to the train. A mess of black hair and a ruffled tuft of red could be seen, though all other details were too small to distinguish. 

“Merlin, Morgana, and Circe,” Neville whimpered at last.

“Gods above,” Ginny hissed. “Mum is so going to kill him!”

“This is real life, right?” Hermione whispered and pinched herself.

“Do you think they’ll be okay?” Neville worried his bottom lip, panicked glances towards Hermione not unseen by the young ginger.

“You know Potter,” Hermione muttered, shaking her head. “More lives than a cat, that one has.”

“Someone should tell Parvarti,” Ginny frowned as she wrung her hands.

“I’ll go. You two, keep track of the idiots you call friends,” Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose. “We can’t have Perfect Potter dying. That would be tragic.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I would think you cared,” the first year snorted.

“But you do,” Hermione smirked before taking off. 

Once in the corridor, she shook herself. _A flying car, really?_ She thought, still incredulous. _Merlin, how will they get out of this one?_ Her steps went down until she found Lavender Brown, a mousy brunette, and the Patil twins. With a polite greeting towards Padma, the Ravenclaw, and inviting the whole compartment to their study sessions, she turned towards the Gryffindor twin.

“I believe Neville was looking for you, several compartments down,” her bushy hair bobbed towards the girl, and left. 

She shook her head once more before muttering, “A bloody flying _car,_ I mean, come on!”

In that state of disbelief and irritation, she stomped back to her compartment. She moodily threw herself next to Millie, who simply patted her shoulder. All talking stopped at he sudden entrance, though no one knew why she returned in such a dark way. Her mind knew that, despite how highly _illegal_ this would be, how much they would all be punished otherwise, Dumbledore’s lion cubs would come off spot free, not even a mention in their permanent records. She scoffed and threw a moody glare at no one in particular, suddenly understanding her adoptive father’s own dark mutterings and sour moods.

“Merlin and Morgana, the world is horribly unfair,” she growled out at last.

“As impressive as we are,” Blaise began, a slight smirk to his voice, “We aren’t telepathic, Hermione.”

“You don’t say,” she ground out, throwing a glare at the Italian, who’s smirk only grew.

“If he could read minds, then he’d know how to beat me at chess,” Theo added, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “And we all know how ruddy terrible he is at the game.”

“Oi! I can beat you,” the rebuttal.

“When I let you,” snorted the other.

“You take that back,” Blaise reached out and grabbed Theo. 

“If you could beat me, I wouldn’t have to,” the brunette boy laughed and scuffled with the other.

At this, Hermione released a reluctant chuckle with a shake of her head. With a quick glance, a flash of blue and white made her growl. 

“That is what I’m bloody angry about,” she pointed, accusing and venomous, out the window. “I would bet the school that the numbskull duo will get off with a slap on the wrist for coming to school in a _bloody flying car_!” 

“Do I want to know how you found out?” Millie asked, a slight, incredulous smile on her face. 

“How do you think?” Hermione rolled her eyes.

All around her, her fellow Slytherins cried out at the sight. Draco, particularly upset and irritated, muttered under his breath about all the pranks he was going to pull on the pair. Blaise and Theo looked at the car as it went in and out of their window’s view, surprise and shock in their eyes. Pansy shrieked, which caused the majority of the compartment to cover their ears, as Daphne shook her head and muttered about Gryffindors.

“You gotta admit,” Vince said in a quiet voice. “It is kind of brilliant.”

“I mean, yeah, they’ll not get in trouble like we would,” Greg added, in tune with his best friend, “But a flying muggle car? That is some kind of style right there.”

“I just wish they’d get expelled like the rest of us would,” Hermione moodily grumbled, arms crossed across her chest.

“There, there, Hermione,” Millie crooned, “You’ll just have to work with Draco to exact your revenge.” 

“Do you want to?” the blonde is question asked, roguish smile on his face.

“We’ll see,” she demurred, to which the boy gave a broad smile.

“As long as Uncle Sev doesn’t find out, we’re good,” he dimpled at the thought of executing pranks.

“We could ask for the Gryffindor twins,” Hermione mused, a small smile playing upon her lips.

“Why would we do that?” Draco sneered.

“Because, they’re inside access to the house, and not afraid to pull one over their idiotic brother,” the self satisfied smirk on her face answered. 

“Do you think they’d really want to?” Draco tilted his head, eyes thoughtful at the idea.

“Draco, darling, do you doubt my ability to get my way?” Hermione cooed, her expression wicked.

He returned the sentiment in kind as the rest of the train ride went by in a blur. Before she knew it, Hermione climbed out of the train, following Annalie and Jeremy’s orders towards horseless carriages. Perhaps it was the look some of her friends wore, or the way other students looked at the front, but Hermione could tell that there was more to them than meets the eye. In hopped half of the second year Slytherins, the other half in an adjacent carriage. Soon, the bright, magical castle came into sight, and Hermione smiled, wistful and fond, at the spires towering into the darkness. Finally, home again. 

Shuffling en mass towards the entrance hall proved to be a most suffocating experience. Never had she felt such sympathy for sardines. She found fewer insults hurdled her way from her House than before, which heartened and amused her at once. Instead, the other houses watched her with guarded interest, not knowing what to make of the genial Slytherin muggle-born who greeted friends from their tables with a familiar smile. 

Finally deciding to settle at the table next to Annalie, the fifth year insisting on this arrangement earlier, Hermione observed the chaos around her. Students continued to file into the hall, all but shouting at each other in greeting. Already, the Weasley twins snuck up behind their rather pompous, if reasonable, older brother. A few Ravenclaws watched with bated breath. Honey eyes swept towards the head table. A frown grew on her face. _Where were her new, adoptive parents?_ She noticed the somber face of the Headmaster and a flash of understanding shot through her, and she scowled.

“Such a dark expression for the beginning of a new year,” Annalie hummed so only Hermione could hear. “Pray tell, little snake, what happened now? We haven’t even been in school for half an hour.”

“Potter and his idiotic ginger ape happened,” Hermione muttered darkly. 

“It’s okay, Hermione,” Draco patted her arm, “Uncle Sev will give them hell, even if no one else will.” 

“Give them hell for what exactly?” Annalie raised a manicured brow.

“Do our secondies have juicy gossip already?” Gina butted in, cheshire grin on her face.

“It would appear,” the blonde sixth year watched Hermione and her friends.

“Spill it,” Gina demanded, eyes glittering all the while. 

“Our favorite Gryffindor duo decided they could fly to school in an enchanted muggle car,” Millie announced for the Slytherins in earshot to hear. “Hermione here,” gesturing toward the dark expression on her face, “Is simply upset at what she thinks will _not_ happen to them.”

Hermione’s scowl deepened as she watched her mentor’s eyes sweep across the head table, additional understanding dawning in her eyes. A flurry of whispers swept through the table of snakes. Gina questioned her friend quite aggressively, to which Millie answered in full, scandalous detail, letting the gossip mill work it’s course. A sudden bang echoed through the loud hall, an instant silence descending as a all heads turned towards the doors. In walked Professor McGonagall, her severe expression causing raised brows amongst the more observant students. 

All dark thoughts fled her mind as Hermione watched the sorting for the first time. Wonder and warmth rushed through her as the hat sang of the Houses, singing their praises, it’s gravely voice echoing through the hall. With each new snake, Hermione hooted and hollered with the rest of viper pit, hissing as new Gryffindors were announced. Soon enough, the Headmaster, a strained smile on his lips, announced the start of the feast.

“About time,” Draco mumbled next to her, “I don’t know how much longer I could have gone.”

“Now, you’re sounding like Vince and Greg,” Hermione chortled.

“That’s just mean,” Draco shot back, “I’m far more intelligent.”

“Of course you are, Draco,” Hermione grinned, the patronizing tone in her voice causing him to turn and glare at her. “Oh, come off it, you can’t stay mad at me.”

“Cheeky witch,” the blonde mumbled with a small smile as he turned back to his plate, Jeremy taking his attention. 

“I see your relations with your housemates have improved over the past year,” Annalie grinned down at her.

“As have your’s,” Hermione replied in kind. “I suppose it is the excellent tutelage. Like teacher, like student they say.”

“I have no idea what you mean,” the older girl primly replied, straightening her posture, though a quick glance gave her away.

“Take it how you think it to mean,” Hermione hummed, a knowing smile on her face. 

The older girl burst out in laughter, ruffling the already frizzy mane upon Hermione’s head. A quiet, snarky commentary soon ran between the pair of Slytherin witches for a time. Yet, friends called upon Annalie’s attention, and Hermione once more cast a glance up at the head table. Concerned honey eyes spotted the dark wizard in question, who, somehow knew her gaze. A brief, silent conversation passed between the two, and Hermione, heartened by what she saw, turned back towards her friends with greater spirit than before.

In a blink, the feast passed before her eyes. After dessert, came the usual announcements. The Forbidden Forest remained forbidden. _Imagine that,_ Hermione dryly snorted to herself. A list of new items the caretaker forbade came and went, as did the odd, yet harmonious, rendition of the school alma mater. The Gryffindor twins sang a particularly strident march, standing, one foot on the bench, as they gestured around the hall. Even the Slytherins smirked in amusement at their antics. Before joining the other second years, Annalie gave Hermione the new password. Soon, they were sauntering down the halls, a cool breeze flitting across the entrance hall. 

“Hermione,” a winded Neville wheezed, “H-Have you-?”

“I’ll look for him in the dungeons, Nev,” the brunette smiled at the pudgy boy. 

“Thanks,” He panted and smiled. “Just so you know, Ginny was sorted into Gryffindor.”

“I know that,” Hermione gave small, amused smirk. 

“Just in case you,” the boy shrugged, “You appeared a bit preoccupied since the train.”

Hermione stared at the boy for a moment, surprised. She knew she hid it rather well. Only Millie, Draco, and Annalie knew of her anxiety, especially after the end of last term. Yet, this boy, who appeared harmless as his loyal pet toad, saw right through it. Then, a thought went through her. _He’s a pureblood who grew up in the same circles as her friends,_ Hermione’s mind provided. _Of course, he saw it._ A small smile played at the edge of her lips. 

“I’m better now,” Hermione reassured the boy. “Just irritated at your friends.”

“You’re not the only one,” the chubby boy laughed, though she could see the nerves as he peered at the curious group of Slytherins behind her. “I-I’ll just get going now.”

“See you, Neville,” the girl chucked with a wave. She turned to find those who remained, namely Draco, Millie, Blaise, and Pansy, watching her with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. “What?”

“You and your friends and contacts,” Pansy rolled her eyes first, striding up to Hermione.

“He may just surprise you yet, Pans,” she winked. “Who knows, maybe he’ll grow up to be your knight in shining armor.”

“You’re still on about that?” the pug-nosed girl groaned with a dramatic sigh. 

“Watch,” Hermione stage whispered to Millie and the boys as they began to descend the stairs, “They’ll wind up together and in love.” 

“Hermione!” the witch next to her squealed. 

The group entered the common room and found a decent spot to settle for the up coming meeting. Their other year mates soon gravitated towards the group on one of the couches. A few minutes passed before Jeremy and Annalie stood before the rest of the House, calling them to attention. Draco and Hermione shared a satisfied smirk before turning towards the fearless leaders of the viper pit. 

“Welcome back to another year at Hogwarts,” Jeremy began, “And, to all of our first years, welcome to the Great House of Slytherin.” A roar of approval went through the crowd, some cheering their new leaders, others their house in general. “As you all know, this year the goal is to win the House Cup out right. For seven years now, we have won the cup outright or shared the honor.” Another cheer went around the dungeon common room. “Now, for some house keeping matters.”

“Filch is on a mission this year, for whatever reason,” Annalie picked up. “That means have multiple escape routes, and bloody well use your charms. Don’t get caught,” her glare directed at a familiar, troublesome duo.

“Yeah, Ares, don’t get caught,” the blonde boy drawled at his sandy-haired companion.

“Says the one who got stuck in a Weasley trap and screamed like a girl for days,” the boy, Ares, snorted.

“Be that as it may,” Annalie continued, a cold gaze freezing the boys. “Getting caught means detentions and point loss. Be smart. We’re Slytherins, not Gryffindors.”

A few more points were covered, questions answered, and, as the meeting wrapped up, Annalie once more took the stage from Jeremy. Her eyes narrowing on the most stubborn of the group.

“In addition to all of this, for the first year’s sake,” she began, “Know that Hermione Granger, second year, is a muggle born. If you so choose to mess with, hex, or otherwise try to embarrass, harass, or annoy her, you are on your own.”

A few chuckles went around the room. Accusingstares found the brunette anyways, a few of the pureblood young one’s faces darkening. A devilish smirk grew on her face, entertaining all the ways to teach them not to mess with her. From the corner of her eye, a wary Marcus Flint exchanged a few words with Adrian Pucey beside him. The other boy burst out in full laughter. 

“Good luck with that,” chortled the older boy.

“She may be a mudblood, but she’s our mudblood,” one of the others smirked. 

Laughter met these words, as Hermione shrugged off the comment with a grin. After that, the meeting broke apart as Annalie and Jeremy called the first and fifth years together. Hermione walked to her favorite chaise, settling down with a happy sigh. Draco sat next to her, Millie on her other side, as a few others sat before her.For the rest of the evening, familiar, warm conversation washed over her before settling into her bed at the end of a long, eventful day.

The next morning went as every other in Hogwarts before her. She met Annalie in the common room at quarter past seven, sharp, made their way up to the Great Hall, and sat down to eat her breakfast. Some time later, Gina and Millie shuffled in, followed by a drowsy Draco. What set this morning apart from all others occurred not fifteen minutes after all the now second years greeted each other, timetables yet to be passed out. 

A great, old owl came in with the rest of the post, slow and old. The bright red envelope stood out against the normal beiges of parchment and whites of muggle post. As the poor thing struggled to make it’s way towards the Gryffindor table, Draco, as many others, took note of it, and a gleeful smile lit up on his face. Hermione lifted a brow at him.

“It’s a howler,” he explained, fully awake now. “When someone is very upset, they send one. Instead of just words on a page, it will animate and speak to the recipient, quite literally yelling at them.”

Crashing plates and goblets could be heard across the hall as the owl made contact with the Gryffindor table, in front of Ronald Weasley. His face grew pale as he tried to explain to Potter what exactly sat before them. Hesitant, fearful movements opened the dreaded letter only to have the booming voice of Molly Weasley fill the hall. Her threats reverberated throughout the cavernous Great Hall, only for it to say hello in the most caring of ways to the Boy Who Lived, before going up in flames.

“Best thing I’ve seen all day,” Draco snickered.

“You’ve been awake for less than an hour, Draco,” Hermione rolled her eyes.

“Still, I doubt anything will beat that,” he grinned at her.

“I wish she would send one of those every day,” the girl sighed in bliss taking great amusement at the Weasel’s despairing expression. “Still want to work with the twins to get him back?”

“Maybe we should get him to step a toe out of line,” the boy grinned.

——————————————

The next few days flew by in a blissful blur of learning, reading, and joking. Hermione fell into the rhythm of school work and Annalie’s lessons effortlessly. Even her extra work felt easy and barely weighed on her mind. She learned that there was little else she could do but enjoy her time back in the enchanted castle. 

On Thursday of that week, she finally attended the class she looked forward towards the most; Defense Against the Dark Arts. She read his books with great interest over the summer holiday, though had not been able to do a thorough read-through of them since. His tales piqued her interest and her desire to learn more. As they entered, a class shared with the Gryffindors, Hermione smiled at her few acquaintances, said hello to Neville, and sat down. 

A bang sent the doors flying open, her neck snapping towards the sound, only to find the ever flamboyant professor in bright, fuchsia robes striding down the center aisle. While she found his clothes to be a bit bright, Hermione was taken in all the same. A small, shy smile came to her face.

“Welcome, welcome my ever faithful fans, I mean students,” Lockhart boomed, charming smile in place as he turned on a dime. “In this class, I will teach you how to survive horrible monsters, dangerous stunts, and death defying acts. All through my pristine example. Ah, Harry! Wonderful to see you again, my famous friend.”

“Uh, thanks?” Potter answered, unsure and uncomfortable.

Draco snorted behind me, as I rolled my eyes. 

“Now, for this first class, I believe we will start with something simple,” the professor beamed, bouncing around the front of the room. “It’s time for a pop quiz!” 

Groans went through the class, and, as he went through the room and handed out the lengthy parchment. When it got to her desk, Hermione heard her friend moan at the questions. Indeed, they were more personal and less educational, but, the brunette reasoned, it must be an ice breaker. All the same, she knew the answers to the questions.

“What is this?” Millie hissed under her breath. “Who knows what shampoo he uses?”

“Pomegranate-Peach Medley from the Sirens line,” Hermione answered automatically, her quill rushing about.

“Uh huh,” the other girl scratched down the answer, “And his favorite color? Who cares!”

“Lavender,” the brunette muttered without noticing.

“You don’t say,” the other girl grinned. “But who would know his most prized accolade?”

“Witch Weekly’s Most Handsome Smile Award.”

“But why something that shallow?” Millie slyly added.

“Because he believes that having such a noteworthy smile brings joy to women everywhere,” Hermione’s robotic answer.

“Does Miss Granger have a bit of a crush?” Millie smirked.

“W-what?” the other girl blinked, finally taking note of their conversation.

“A crush, Granger, do keep up,” her friend snickered. “You know, fancying someone, taking a romantic interest, _like_ liking another, wanting to do wicked things with them in a broom cupboard. Really, Hermione.”

“I don’t fancy anyone,” Hermione exclaimed a bit too loud, drawing the attention of the room towards her.

“What is that Miss…?” Professor Lockhart raised a brow, trying to use his smile to disarm the girl.

“I, that is to say, er,” Hermione stumbled for words, cheeks bright red as snickers went through the room. “Nothing, sir.”

“Nothing at all? Is that right? Well then, are you at least done with your quiz?” He asked, laying the charm on thick. 

“Y-yes, sir,” she ducked her head, embarrassed beyond reason.

“Ah, let me see, let me see,” he nearly skipped to the side of her desk and took the scroll from her. “Yes, quite right, hm,” he muttered as he perused the parchment. “Well, done, Miss Granger! Indeed, that is quite right. Twenty points to Slytherin, for being prepared and knowing your people.” 

He sent a wink at the girl who flushed pink once more before chuckling as she placed her head down. Not wanting to see anyone, she buried her face in her hands with a groan. Several more snickers reached her ears as Millie hissed something along the lines of wanting to be more than a teacher’s pet. A hand swatted at the girl next to her.

“Well, if nothing else, Hermione’s crush on our dear, lovely Professor Lockhart earned us twenty points today,” Blaise hummed as they turned out of the Defense corridor. 

“I do not have a crush on Professor Lockhart,” Hermione grumbled, arms crossed.

“No? Then how did you know his favorite flower?” Theo chimed in.

“Or his favorite quote?” Pansy elbowed her in the ribs.

“Not to mention his favorite care line,” Daphne smirked. 

“I don’t see what’s so great about him,” Draco sniffed, upset for no apparent reason. “He’s just a vain slip of a man.”

“But his actions are so heroic,” Pansy hummed. “Isn’t that right, Hermione?”

“Shut it,” she growled, leading the pack.

“My, my, I say we hit a nerve,” Millie grinned at Pansy beside her. “Is this perhaps Hermione’s first love?”

“Merlin, a girl can’t remember obscure facts from a book without people thinking she fancies the author,” she near shouted, throwing her hands in the air.

“Not when the author is tall, blonde, and handsome,” Millie slyly hinted.

“Argh!” Hermione yelled and stomped off.

“Wait, don’t go alone,” Vince called after her, pulling Greg along to follow the girl. “You don’t want Gryffindors to hex you!”

“Tall, blonde, and handsome?” Draco muttered to himself with a slight frown.

“Don’t worry, Romeo, we’ve got your back,” Millie patted her classmate on the back before going after her friend.

“W-what?!” He exclaimed, turning pink.

“Who’s Romeo?” Pansy asked, tilting her head to the side.

“You need to read more, Pans,” Theo shook his head with a smile, amused by his friends. 

——————————————

After Transfiguration, which thankfully cleansed her friends of their absurd accusations of ‘fancying’ or ‘having a crush’ on Professor Lockhart, Hermione found herself in the library. Her defense books sat in front of her as she worked on a timeline. Something bothered her this past summer as she read the books. It wiggled in the back of her mind, an unsettling worm within her thoughts. 

She spelled one piece of parchment to be long enough to fit the details she needed, beginning with his birth and ending with the current year. As she filed each date away, roughly documenting his Hogwarts years, and cross referencing the events of his books, Hermione found something unsettling. Nothing matching up. With a gulp, trembling hands turned the pages, cross referencing news articles from abroad to the events of Lockhart’s many books. With each new fact and date, it threw the timeline out of wack. Unless he used multiple, complex time spells, she could not be mistaken. He didn’t do _any_ of his self-reported acts of valor or heroism. Gilderoy Lockhart was a fraud. 

A trembling breath came into her lungs before whooshing out. She didn’t know what to think about this newest development. Thoughts raced through her heads. Why did he do it? What did he want? Why not report or write the books for another? Why take credit? Why? How did Dumbledore not see this? If she, a twelve year old, almost thirteen, could piece together such a puzzle, how could one of the most powerful wizards of her time miss this?

A loud clatter brought Hermione back to reality, books falling to the ground. Scrambling to pick them up, her over stuffed mind raced and settled on a plan. Slytherins do not take action without due consideration. They do not assume, nor do they form hasty decisions. They deliberate, take the time to learn the best move, and then act when appropriate. They store information to use at a later date. However, none of those things, those Rules of Slytherin, calmed her heart, nor slowed her breathing. 

Quick as a cat, she replaced the books, either to the shelf or her bag, and left. She went to the first place she could think of; Professor Snape’s office. A few, hesitant knocks revealed the dour dark wizard in question. Her obvious discomfort made way for a raised brow of concern, followed by a silent invitation to enter. 

The door clicked shut, and, with a wave of his hand, wards snapped into place. She sat on the edge of the familiar, green sofa on one side of the room, fingers tangling and untangling. A tea set flew from some concealed cabinet, and, before long, a cup of the steaming liquid sat before her. This was not the first time she had visited his office after school hours, wishing to talk and catch up earlier this week. The distress in her eyes and tilt of her jaw, however, surely alerted the professor to something wrong. 

“Out with it,” he sighed, leaning back into his chair after a moment of silence. 

“It’s about Professor Lockhart, sir,” Hermione began, eyes darting around the room. “He’s, well, to be blunt, a fraud.”

“That is an understatement,” Severus snorted, noting her worried lip. “Is that what’s distressing you?”

“Yes and no,” she finally relented and leaned back, brow furrowed. “It isn’t so much he is a fraud, but, rather, how successfully it has been kept quiet. Sir, if I may be frank, I believe he is dangerous.” 

“How so?” the man frowned. 

He disliked misjudging character, and, while he knew his newest colleague to be less than qualified for his preferred post, Severus did not think of him in such a light. Attention seeking? Absolutely. Fame and glory soaking? Indubitably. Dangerous? Hagrid’s hound posed a greater risk to the general student population than Lockhart. Yet, the serious expression on his daughter’s face made him pause. Not that he could believe he had a daughter, it still felt surreal.

“As it stands, we know that he took credit for all manner of things that happened to further his reputation and popularity,” she began, almost as if to give a lecture, and brought out a scroll, unrolling her current research. “I read through all the books, as I usually do before term, and it just felt like something didn’t fit. So, today, I decided to look up everything and, well, it doesn’t. He would have been fighting werewolves at five, and vampires at fourteen for the dates of the attacks to match up. If it weren’t for Hogwarts’ record keeping and international periodical archives, well, you wouldn’t be able to tell anything was wrong.

“But, as I went in search of it, even the articles pertaining to the real people who must’ve been doing these things are gone, blank,” she chewed on her bottom lip. “It doesn’t mention a Gilderoy Lockhart, not in name or description, but it doesn’t positively identify a hero either. If not for the dates, it would appear nothing amiss, but it just doesn’t make sense.”

“I have pointed all of this out to the Headmaster before he accepted Lockhart,” Severus shook his head, impressed by the depth of her research. “While all pointing towards his unsuitability to teach here, it does not make him a danger.”

“But it does, sir,” she earnestly entreated him. “He was able to wipe all of these people off the face of the earth. No memory. No description. No history. Nothing. They are just gone. They no longer exist. I’m afraid that, if someone else were to figure it out, if they were to, say, confront him, it would lead to similar results.”

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose and released a deep, calming breath. Merlin be damned, she was right. The blonde idiot of a professor appeared to be more manipulative and conniving than he let on. The level of skill required with a memory charm to so completely remove an individual from everyone’s past was not little by any means. He restrained himself from breathing a string of profanity under his breath, wondering how he missed it.

“It’s probably his overly flamboyant attitude and vapid exterior,” Hermione muttered, as if reading his mind. “No one would suspect a man who acts the adoring, if dim, celebrity to be dangerous.” 

Silence. It filled the office, as each were lost in their thoughts. Hermione, for her part, felt better telling her adoptive father. Yet, she could not quite shake the feeling of discomfort or unease at having such a man in the castle. Severus, on the other hand, debated on what to do with the information. Surely, she could warn a few others, keep them safe as well. However, he feared wide spread rumor would not only get back to Lockhart, but put his daughter in danger. Dark eyes examined the young girl in front of him, shrewd curiosity burning within. 

“Why come to me?” he finally asked.

“Because I trust you, sir,” Hermione have a small, hesitant smile, before she rushed on with, “Not that I don’t trust Professor McGonagall, but she’s a bit too forward. I trust that you, as a Slytherin, would understand that making a scene would not be the right choice. This is bigger than some school squabble, and so I didn’t want to put Annalie in serious danger because of confiding in her. The first person I felt who could act with discretion on this matter would be you, sir.”

By the end of her little speech, Hermione glanced at the fire, a small, embarrassed blush upon her cheeks. All the while, a feeling of incredulous wonder filled Severus for the first time in a long time. Here sat a very intelligent, resourceful, well connected girl. She could have gone to any multitude of people for advice and aid, yet she came to him. She trusted him. He would have smiled if the situation were not so grave.

“Thank you,” he whispered, and caught her eye. A small smile played upon her face, and he let it sink in for a moment. “Here is what I want you to do.” 

——————————————

“Quite the affectionate daughter you have,” Lucius chortled at the end of Severus’ tale. “Hugged you and all? Did you freeze? Forget what affection felt like?”

“I did not,” he growled, though he had, just a bit. However, it felt quite rewarding to have gotten such a response. “However, you miss the point.”

“Ah yes, her little revelation that Lockhart is not harmless,” sneered the blonde man. “You will keep an eye on him, will you not?”

“What do you take me for?” the dark haired man rolled his eyes. 

“An emotionally stunted potions master?” the blonde raised a brow.

“Better than a theatrical aristocrat,” Severus bit back. 

“Watch those fangs, Severus, you never know when you may poison someone,” Lucius smirked. 

“As if you don’t bite at will,” the professor scoffed. 

“Be that as it may,” the aristocrat sobered. “That is quite serious. What would you have her do?”

“Collect information for me,” smirked the other man, red ink splashing across another abysmal essay. “Fly under the radar, as muggles call it.”

“Wait in the grass until it is time to strike?” a slow, devious grin spread across Lucius’ face. 

“We know how to keep ourselves alive, and how to care for ourselves,” Severus shrugged. “I told her to inform a select few of her friends, as to keep the secret just that.”

Lucius gave a noncommittal hum and leaned back in the chair across the desk from his friend. The indirect parenting seemed to be doing good for his friend, as he and his daughter were building a rapport. He hoped that, one day, the bond would be publicly acknowledged. It’s the least both deserved. 

“Training her into a little spy already, are we?” the blonde asked, amused at the expression.

“Teaching her how to treat a matter with the necessary discretion, and who to trust,” corrected the potions master.

“If you say so, friend,” Lucius easily agreed as he took a sip of the firewhiskey before him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, as I began writing, I put a few small plot points together, and I hope you each enjoyed it. I started to write the first part, and became giddy with the prospect of Hermione wanting to rail into Harry and Ron so early into the year. Honestly, it’s quite amusing. 
> 
> Next, I have been considering splitting this fic into two parts. This part, Queen of Slytherin, would be until she takes the ‘queen’ position in the house. The second half would be her ‘growing up.’ Tentatively, this part would be called ‘The Swan of Slytherin,’ as she grows from ‘ugly duckling’ to ‘beautiful swan,’ aka, finishing Hogwarts and coming into her own. I just don’t want to fic length to be intimidating at the end. As each chapter tends towards 5-8k words on average, a single fic will be quite the word count. Thoughts, my loyal readers?
> 
> Always know that I appreciate and love your comments, and will continue to try and respond to all of them in a timely manner. If you want to talk, feel free to comment. Have ideas? I’ll listen and address those as well! Know that I am always coming up with new stories. Since last I updated here, I have started to write (by hand, for multiple reasons), at least one story, and plan four or five more. I’m always working to write more. 
> 
> Thank you all for reading! Until next time! =)


	19. A Very Slytherin Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Second year continues in a familiar cadence. Hermione faces another Slytherin Luncheon, with a kink in her plans thrown in. She must figure out how to solve yet another problem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I am alive, and I promise, I'm still writing this and all my stories. The past few months have been a bit overwhelming for me, and, now that everything is finally calming down, I can write again! I present to you something I thought would be several thousand words longer, but decided that a) you guys deserved and update and b) it would be better to split it up anyways. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter, and thank you for the patience. 
> 
> Without further ado, here's a new chapter!

“Are you sure you don’t want to one day become Mrs. Hermione Lockhart?” Millie snarked after a particularly trying Defense lesson.

“No, no I do not want to become his wife,” the brunette in question hissed to her friend. “I much rather marry the Giant Squid than him.”

For the past three weeks, Lockhart took a particular interest in both Harry Potter and Hermione. Potter, she conceded, at least held celebrity status, which, subsequently drew the glory hound to the poor Gryffindor. What Hermione did to garner such ‘favoritism,’ she still had no clue. Millie thought it to be her perfect, practically obsessed, quiz the first day of class. Hermione wasn’t so sure. Whatever caused it humiliated her more than anything.

Lockhart took to lively rereading of his achievements, often calling forth Potter and herself, all in the name of equal opportunity said the professor, to act out the roles. While Potter felt howling like a werewolf or growling like a vampire, often sounding vaguely Transylvanian to her immeasurable amusement, to be embarrassing, Hermione disagreed. To her horror and dismay, her irritating professor casted her as the weeping damsel in distress. The first time she tried to read through with little emotion and as much snark as possible, Lockhart stopped everything and told her to read with more _emotion._ Merlin, she wanted to punch him right there.

Now, after a particularly dramatic fight scene that ended up with everyone but Lockhart ‘dead,’ Hermione practically stomped down the hall, robes flapping behind her and glower fixed on her face. It bore a striking resemblance to a certain dungeon bat they all knew and feared. Millie took to teasing her, which often made Draco either snub or defend her, depending on the contents of the excerpt reenacted. Today laid firmly in the ‘snub’ category. 

“Hermione,” the innocently confused voice of Vince reached her, “Isn’t marrying the Giant Squid considered ‘beasti-fallacy’?” 

“It’s beastiality, Vince, and yes,” Hermione sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Isn’t that bad, and really, a bit gross?” he persisted in questioning. 

“I think that’s the point,” Greg answered, with a serious nod.

“But, wouldn’t marrying Lockhart be better than that?” Vince asked, honest inquiry melting Hermione’s heart.

“It’s supposed to be a way of saying that I would never want to marry Professor Lockhart,” Hermione sighed, a slight smile on her face as she patted the confused boy on the arm. For the life of her, despite how slow the pair could be, they were honest and genuine with her. The two had taken to ‘guarding’ her after a particularly cruel Slytherin decided to prank her several weeks ago. “It may be more obvious to say that I would rather marry Ron Weasley than Professor Lockhart, if that helps.”

“Well, why didn’t you say that the first time,” Vince laughed. 

“Because,” she gave an impish smile, “I would still rather marry the Squid than either of them.” 

“Even if none of them are tall, blonde, nor handsome?” Growled the ever frustrated Draco in front of her. 

“Honestly, where did you hear that?” Hermione rolled her eyes, not sure where her best friend took such information. “We’re only twelve, well I’m thirteen, but you know what I mean! None of us are tall yet.”

Beside her, Millie burst out laughing. Understanding lead to irritation. Hermione stomped all the way to Transfiguration with a clear idea of exactly where Draco heard such ridiculous nonsense. Her friend watched in worried awe as she stormed into the room. Hurried footsteps came to an abrupt stop.

“She’s in a dark mood today, Millie,” Theo muttered, though Hermione could hear. “It isn’t a good day to tease her.”

She knew, deep down, that her black haired friend only wanted to cheer Hermione up. The invitations for the annual House Luncheon flew in yesterday morning with the post. At first, the bushy haired brunette mused that the afternoon would be spent in a tolerably pleasant way; alone at first, only to meet and enjoy time with her friends and their families. Over the past holiday, witches and wizards of high society praised her as delightful and clever, a mixture of arch and sweet, able to charm a room. So, it stood to reason, this event would be more of the same.

Until this morning. A nondescript barn owl swooped in front of her, scrawled note from her new father tied to the leg. With little more than a glance at the rest of the table, Hermione left to descend into the subterranean kingdom of the snakes. With pinched lips and agitated motions did he present her with an envelope. The note within bore her muggle mother’s writing, accepting, in no uncertain terms, the invitation. She gaped at the potions master, who simply sighed and patted her shoulder in a slightly awkward, though reassuring, gesture, before the first bell prompted her to Lockhart’s charade. 

It made Theo’s observation not minutes before a monstrous understatement. 

Now she sat, front and center, in front of her mother’s class. With lazy flicks, she turned the poor tortoise into a teapot and back, mindlessly trying to improve the detail and delicacy of the china. Millie chatted next to her, working towards the same goal, as Draco and Vince sat behind her. She heard the alarmed cries of the blonde telling the larger boy to make his turtle stop biting his robes. Not even the silly mishaps could make her smile. 

Making a choice, Hermione raised her arm in the air, dizzy tortoise stumbling about her desk.

“Yes, Miss Granger?” the prim professor asked as she reached the Slytherin second year.

“May I speak with you after class?” She asked, pleading with her eyes. “If it isn’t too much trouble, Professor.” 

“That would be acceptable, Miss Granger,” Minerva nodded, and Hermione could see the light of comprehension flicker behind her eyes. “Meet me in my office. I believe you have mentally scarred the poor thing enough, Miss Granger. Why don’t you go about and help your classmates.”

Hermione nodded and, for the rest of the class period, went around the room. By the end of the class, most of the Slytherins were able to cast the spell, with only Greg having slight problems. Grey eyes followed her as she flitted across the room, though she never raised her eyes to meet them. She knew that if Draco decided to actually see her, Hermione would either blurt out everything or weep. Most likely both. He had that effect on her. 

So, she waved the group of Slytherins on as she rushed to pack and leave the scrutinizing gaze of her friend. Draco appeared to piece together her mental state. 

“I will get this out of you sooner or later,” he whispered as he passed her towards the exit. 

A great, tired sigh left her as she visibly slumped for the first time since Annalie began to teach her. Emotion went through her in waves; sadness, frustration, anger, hopelessness, irritation, fear. A moment passed before she reigned in her thoughts, fingers tangling and untangling. All the while, hazel eyes watched her with a thoughtful frown. With a crook of her finger, Hermione followed the older witch towards her office. Warm light bathed the room, decorated in various shades of reds and golds.

“What appears to be the trouble, Hermione,” Minerva asked, not unkindly. 

“I- that is to say,” the girl stuttered, thoughts not quite settled. With a mental shake, Hermione gathered herself and sighed. “If I may be frank, ma’am, my muggle parents will be attending the upcoming Annual Slytherin House Luncheon. In addition, I-I can’t seem to find a way to deal with it, or tell anyone, or, well, not go crazy that they’ll be here, and it’s just…” 

She paced frantically in front of the worried woman, stumbling upon her words, distress written in every feature. Slumped as she walked, arms crossed tightly across her torso, teeth worried her lower lip, while her eyes shone too bright with frantic emotion. Minerva never saw this girl, normally so composed and in control, this distraught. The fight to reign in the tumultuous barrage of emotions warred upon Hermione’s face and form until she stopped altogether and looked at Minerva with plaintive, sad eyes. 

“Hermione, sit down right there,” the older woman gently led her to a scarlet sofa by the roaring fire, instructing an elf to summon a tea service. “Now, let’s try this again. You are worried about your mother visiting in a week’s time for the Luncheon, is that correct?” A single nod. “And now you don’t know what to do.” Another. “Have you told your friends yet?” She shook her chestnut hair. “Your mentor?” Her mass of hair moving once more. “Your father?” Now, Hermione looked down at her hands. 

Minerva heaved a sigh, which Hermione barely heard. Thoughts and discomfort filled her head far too much. While her normal Slytherin support system seemed logical, she also knew that they would immediately start to plan how to best torture her parents unless she had a firm plan, and that was the last thing she wanted. Her mother would be demanding and disagreeable without their encouragement. Minerva, her new mother, though, was fair, like her. She was noble and just, never really showing a preference for anyone, and Hermione needed that type of view just now.

“It’s just that you would be more fair towards them,” Hermione mumbled. “The others, I value them, of course, but they are a bit too,” she searched for a moment before settling on, “devious. Even Professor Snape is likely do something, though he already knows.” A small, watery smile appeared on her face. “He’s not that skilled in comforting distressed females.”

The pair shared small, knowing smirk before the grim mood returned. Minerva watched her daughter - really, a daughter, something she never thought she’d have the time for - and realized what she needed. Without a second thought, and with the pride and blatant emotion upon her sleeve as her House was often accused of, she sat next to the young Slytherin girl. An arm wrapped around Hermione’s shoulder, holding her gently.

“I’m scared,” she whispered. “What if they do something that makes it impossible for me to remain here? I know _she_ is liable to try and embarrass me as much as possible for the sheer pleasure of seeing me squirm. And he will try to gloss everything over without understanding all the faux pas and mistaken assumptions that will inevitably come flying out of his mouth. I don’t worry so much about the Malfoy family or Southingtons, but everyone else? What if Mrs. Bulstrode doesn’t allow me to visit their estate? Or if the others get me in trouble in other place? I’m sure this will only reinforce the other’s opinions of muggles…”

The girl began to shake, all the unhappy alternatives and events swirling in front of her mind’s eye. Gentle hands soothed her arms as Hermione leaned into the Scottish witch. For the next quarter hour, Hermione blubbered her way through her current problem and the need to make a plan. All the while, Minerva listened with rapt attention, the only interruption their tea and finger sandwiches. Teeth nibbled on a scone instead of her lower lip, and yet, Minerva saw the same worried contemplation in Hermione’s eyes.

“In essence, what you require is a strategy to deal with your muggle parents that will keep them and your position safe,” Minerva summarized, her keen eyes watching the girl before her. “is this correct?”

Hermione nodded, watching her transfiguration professor. True, she had always been something of a ‘daddy’s girl,’ due to her parent’s dynamics, but the comfort of a mother felt different than she thought. Instead of being castigated for her immature and improper behavior, Professor McGonagall watched her with a thoughtful gaze, taking her worries seriously. Taunt muscles began to relax little by little, as the brunette Slytherin allowed herself to relax into the head lioness.

“Perhaps, my dear, you are thinking far too much in the short term,” Minerva finally spoke after moments of companionable silence. “It would be more prudent, I believe, if we look at this luncheon as a way point, if you will. A point on a line that extend beyond that meeting. To keep this line moving in the direction that is best for you, what must you do?”

“Well,” Hermione began, brow furrowed in thought, “First and foremost, I would have to show the other Slytherin parents that I am one of them. This would, then, trigger the ‘use against the world’ mentality to protect me. However, the incident cannot be so that it would make them want to kill my parents.”

Minerva leaned back and watched the child before her chew on her lower lip, eyes focused on some far off thought From her understanding, the Slytherin adults have begun to adopt her into their rather exclusive part of society. This meeting can undo all that Hermione worked towards, the acceptance and protection she garnered thus far. Yet, if there was thing she knew of Slytherins, they protected their own.

“I believe, Hermione,” the elder witch began, a mischievous twinkle in her hazel eyes, “I have an idea how best to instigate your mother.”

“Ma’am?” A confused, yet excited, Hermione inquired. 

“After supper this evening, have Miss Bulstrode and Miss Southington meet me in my office. I shall inform your father of our finalized scheme afterwards,” She gave a pleased smile to the girl. 

Still baffled, a buoyed Hermione left the office. She wandered the halls until the bell recalled her to her next class. With a lighter heart than before, she informed her friend of the meeting and smiled to herself. Maybe all was not lost. 

——————————————

Minerva held back a smirk as she watched the dark wizard pace the office before her. The girls proved to be quite the force when a scheme came to mind. Indeed, the whole thing hinged on feminine discretion. Not that the whole of the House of Slytherin couldn’t be secretive and subtle, but this required a woman’s touch. A woman’s touch it received, indeed. 

With great joy and amusement did the tabby cat animagus relay the whole of the plan to the potions master. Curiosity faded to impassivity to a sort of disbelief before finally settling into a scowl. Minerva sipped her tea to hide the smug smile as she watched the man walk back and forth as if to figure out why this had happened. True, Hermione typically took her problems to him, but this time, she was able to give support to their daughter. _As odd to think of it as ever,_ mused Minerva.

“What you are telling me,” began Severus in his baritone, “Is that she is worried about how her parents less than enthusiastic attitudes will negatively affect her. Correct?” She nodded, eyes alight with smug mirth. “And she took these worries to you.” She could no longer hold back the small smirk. “Why?”

“Obviously, Severus,” Minerva sat up, voice prim yet amused. “This needed a woman’s mind and scheme.”

“You’re a Gryffindor,” came the blunt reply.

“And here I thought I had you fooled into thinking me a Hufflepuff,” her dry retort.

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it, Minerva,” he growled before taking a seat across from her.

“I’m afraid that, unlike your snakes, I cannot read minds,” she chuckled and leaned back once more. “She told me that you called her into her office this morning, and felt a bit awkward about comforting her. For all of the things you do well, dealing with females and their feelings have never ranked particularly high on that list.”

“No, I cannot profess great ability with that particular skill set,” sighed Severus as he watched the fire. “So, due to my lack of comforting abilities, Hermione decided to reach out to make a plan of sorts, I take it.”

“She feared the retribution that you and her friends would take upon her mother in particular, should she take any initial plan towards her fellow snakes,” Minerva confirmed. “She said that your lot would be too devious and unnecessarily cruel to her mother, and she did not want them dead.”

“They wouldn’t have died,” Severus huffed. “And they wouldn’t even have remembered the mental scarring. Mostly.”

A single, manicured brow raised in answer.

“No physical scars, either, that would be far too much of an amateur blunder,” her rumbled on.

Scoffs that sounded remarkably like chuckles voiced her opinion on the matter.

“Very well, it appears Hermione had accurate worries about our methods of dealing with such a threat,” sighed the dark wizard, face pinched in a scowl. “And I take it she thought you would be more fair towards the horrendous woman?”

“Why else would she bring up making such a plan with me?” the Scottish woman grinned like a cat who caught the canary. “This evening, I had her bring along Miss Bulstrode and Miss Southington to temper their planning. As we are dealing with a woman, her father little more than an inconvenience, we chose to keep this between the ladies.”

Minerva watched as the potions master blinked once, then twice, as if trying to accurately decipher her meaning. The power games of the fairer sex differed from their masculine counterparts. He knew that, as well as she. Dark eyes narrowed onto her face, and Minerva simply gave a serene, knowing smile that held enough feminine secrets as to confuse the poor man. 

“I will conceded that if Draco, Lucius or I tried to make a plan it would be quite a bit more,” he struggled to find the right word, “direct or painful than what Narcissa could concoct. If this is the best way to go about it…”

“It is,” Minerva smiled before she sighed with a frown. “For all that the woman has done to her, Hermione wants them alive and well. Perhaps it is for a more pragmatic reason than we give her credit for, but she still holds some form of attachment towards them.”

“Of course she does, Minerva,” scoffed Severus and rolled his eyes. “They raised her for eleven years. She is now learning what it means to be independent of them. We are slowly working on said attachment, but it still exists. Most likely, it will until the day she dies.”

Silence greeted his words. Minerva kept her face neutral, as facts of what she knew about the man’s life flashed through her mind. Minutes slipped past as the melancholy gave way to a more pensive subject. Tea came and went, the fire crackling merrily behind her. She almost forgot he sat there until he growled once more.

“But why did she come to you,” he almost whined. “I would have listened. And helped. Eventually.”

A hearty laugh met those words, as it had been decades since she last heard Severus Snape sound so childish. Shaking her head, she shooed him out of her office for the evening, chuckling all the same. Sometimes, a girl just needed her mother.

——————————————

“What do you mean your parents are coming,” Draco hissed the next day during Herbology. 

“It means,” Hermione huffed as she took soil to repot the plants Professor Sprout had for them that day, “That they are coming to the Luncheon, Draco. It’s all rather simple, really.”

“But, Merlin’s beard,” the blonde growled out. “That woman is going to get you killed.”

Her hands stilled as the boy next to her ranted about the ineptitude and acidity that was her mother. Hermione knew her friend didn’t mean to say the exact words that ran through her mind, those that haunted her. Knowledge did not stop insecurities from surfacing, though willpower kept them locked tight. 

“Be that as it may,” she continued as if nothing happened. “Professor McGonagall, Millie, Annalie, and I have all come up with a plan of sorts. I will be writing your mother, if you don’t think it impertinent, and have only one request.”

“I am more than willing to hear it,” Draco responded, suspicion colored his voice. Even he knew better than to agree to something without the particulars. 

“Ever cautious, I see,” a smirk and sparkle of amusement greeted him. “My only request is that you leave my mother to us.”

“Us?” Her curious friend echoed.

“You’ll see,” her enigmatic response right as Professor Sprout called for the end of class.

The rest of the day comprised of homework and letters, writing and laughing. The odd mood that rested upon the group dissipated for the moment, and the second year Slytherins were themselves again. As the rest of the week went by, Draco noticed his bushy haired friend getting several letters and a large package. With each new addition, a large, evil smirk would appear on her lips, and the blonde had to remember to breathe. Seeing her as her Slytherin Scheme, for which he immediately knew it to be, came together enchanted him. 

“Are you sure it’s all set?” Millie asked the night before, thoroughly catching Draco’s attention.

“Do you doubt me?” Hermione scoffed, quill dancing along her parchment. “Both Mrs. Malfoy and Mrs. Southington have agreed to help. I trust them both to do what I’ve asked.”

“Do you really think our men stand a change?” the black haired girl smirked.

“I don’t think, I know,” the brunette answered in kind. 

Another chorus of laughter filled their portion of the common room. This left the blonde boy more confused than before with no new information to show for his eavesdropping. When all was said and done, Draco felt he knew more about the most recent transfiguration project than Hermione’s mysterious plan. 

The next day dawned and a palpable energy washed through the Slytherin table. Talking and excited whispers finally matched that of the less subdued tables, as girls huddled together and boys began to puff out. Several of the older students came by and ruffled Hermione’s hair, wishing her luck for that day. Sometime around Wednesday it had leaked that the resident mudblood would be accompanied by her thoroughly muggle parents. This caused a stir within the table, and on the morning of said encounter, the table buzzed with life. 

“Hermione,” Pansy whined. “You just have to let Daphne and me do your hair for today.”

“Oh, please Hermione,” Daphne added in, fixing her baby blue eyes on the brunette across from her. “I’ve been dying to do something with your curls. I just have the best Grecian-Goddess looks from Witch Weekly. You will look divine.”

“We’re twelve,” Hermione deadpanned at the two other Slytherins.

“You act as if age dictates when one may want to feel beautiful,” Pansy sniffed, reaching over to bounce a few curls. “And you need a good conditioning treatment.”

“It will help with the frizz,” Daphne nodded, doing the same as her friend. 

“Annalie?” Hermione turned her honey doe eyes upon her mentor. 

“How long will that treatment last?” the blonde sixth year asked the other two girls.

“A good hour or two at least,” Pansy explained in a rush, amused by the growing look of horror on Hermione’s face. “Then we would need it to air dry, since spell drying it will frizz once more.”

“At least another hour or two at the very least,” Daphne interjected with a serious look, though mirth danced in her eyes.

“Help me,” the brunette in question turned towards her blonde friend who, up to this point, had been watching the whole scene with bemused detachment. 

“Are you in danger of bodily harm?” Draco snorted.

“Yes, they are going to torture me,” she answered, voice pained and desperate. 

“But you know,” he began, a purely devious look now on his face, “You requested that I leave this to you girls. Being the amazing friend that I am-”

“Absolutely magnanimous,” Blaise solemnly added as the other boys nodded.

“What does ‘mag-a-na-ne-mus’ mean?” Vince whispered to Theo.

“Noble or generous,” the other boy answered.

“I decided to acquiesce to your humble request,” Draco finished with a small, mocking bow. “Thus, as this falls under your purely devious plan of which I was left out of, I cannot do anything. My hands are tied by my decision and will to honor your word.”

“What about-“ Greg began, facing the other boy.

“Agree,” Theo sighed, smile tugging at his mouth. “Acquiesce means to agree without a fight.”

Those surrounding the group of second years stared at the Malfoy heir with a mixture of amusement and amazement. Clearly, he never spoke like this in front of his friends, Vince and Greg in particular appearing befuddled. Blaise raised a brow, incredulous smirk beginning to emerge on his face, while Theo looked to be holding back a laugh. The girls all wore nearly identical looks of glee, while the older students watched Hermione expectantly. 

“I don’t know whether to be impressed you know all of those words, or absolutely livid right now,” the brunette finally stated, eyes blinking. 

“Now that’s settled, I think you secondies need to finish up your breakfast to get Hermione here all prettied up in time for the luncheon,” Gina announced happily digging back into her plate.

“I hate you all,” Hermione hissed to a chorus of laughter. 

That is how Hermione found herself being pampered and conditioned at eight in the morning for a luncheon that started at one. She didn’t want to admit it, but the whole process of ‘prettying up’ became much more entertaining and bearable when surrounding by friends. Instead of the cold silence or falsely endearing back handed compliments she normally received from her mother, laughter and easy banter filled the air. The girls even ‘allowed’ her to have a book (“Reading up on your future husband, I see,” Millie had winked as she spotted the Defense text in her hands) while her treatment set, and the others had their turn.

Talk turned towards attractive boys, favorite subjects, even clothes and expectations for the day. Hermione listened to the calming hum of conversation. Even as they twirled in their dresses, Pansy putting the final touches upon Hermione’s hair, Daphne twisting ribbon to hold it together, a strange sense of camaraderie settled upon the second year Slytherin girls. Despite their differences, they all came together when it counted the most. 

Hermione found herself waiting, anxious and impatient, upon her normal chaise in the common room. The other parents would arrive via apparation to the gates and be accompanied into the castle by Professor Dumbledore. Upon arrival, they would be announced, and the child, or children, would greet them formally before mingling. Muggles presented a different problem all together. They would go to the Leaky first, before flooing into the potion master’s office. Only then would her father lead her muggle parents for Dumbledore to announce them.

At first, misgivings and frustrations were easily put to rest by watching her friends and other upperclassmen receive their parents. Annalie schooled her rather aggressively upon the formal etiquette of such traditional Slytherin introductions. She pointed out that they did this in front of no one else. Only those of House Slytherin learned the proper routines. Hermione asked if this did not make it quite like a cult, to which the blonde sixth year laughed. 

“Hermione,” she had said, “We are an exclusive community, even smaller than that of the pureblood wizarding world-” which was plenty small in Hermione’s humble opinion, “-As such, we developed a way to recognize one of our own. If you haven’t noticed, most people don’t like us. While we may jilt and curse and terrorize each other within the viper pit, we let no one hurt a fellow snake. Not by word nor deed. As all dysfunctional families know, we are allowed whatever liberties we like with one another, but at the end of the day, we will stand with one another against the world. These types of meeting and gatherings reaffirm our bonds to one another.”

Memories and words played across the cinema screen of her mind, reminding her that all these people were there to not only snipe and sneer at one another, but reinforce the inherent support system of the Slytherin family. The plan hinged on that particular trait of her house. Last year, she had to prove herself to these people, that she belonged in this family. Now, she had to show them why.

As if summoned by the devil himself, Professor Dumbledore stood by the open common room door. Beside him stood two familiar figures, their dress no less elegant than that of their wizarding counterparts. Her mother stood, face impassive as she spared a single glance at the opulent room around her. The man greeted the crowd with a genial, yet bland, expression.

“I now present to this company Doctors Granger and Granger,” he intoned as all eyes watched the curiosity that was muggles. “Which of Salazar’s children lay claim to these?”

“Hermione Jean Granger,” the girl stated, voice clear as a bell. “In my second year under House Slytherin’s influence and tutelage, I claim the parents as mine.” Steps, fluid and graceful, led her to the front of the room, where she curtseyed deeply. “My lord father, my lady mother, may I present to you House Slytherin.”

As, no doubt, instructed, her parents took her hands and allowed themselves to be lead into the room towards Professor Snape. He gave them a hard, dark stare, intimidating in his typical dark style. He cut a dashing figure, if Hermione thought so herself, and clearly disapproved of the pair beside her. A brief glance towards the girl, her eyes sparkling with mischief and anticipation, and the man gave shallow bow. 

“As Head of Slytherin, Welcome to the Annual luncheon of our House,” he stated. “I am Professor Severus Snape, Master of Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts.”

“I am Doctor Richard Granger, Muggle Healer of Teeth, and with me is my lady wife Doctor Elizabeth Granger, Muggle Healer of Teeth,” the brunette man next to Hermione answered in kind, bow and all. “Thank you for permitting us the privilege and pleasure of attending your Luncheon.” 

With the ritual greeting exchanged, the room whispered back to life, all regarding the newest arrivals. Hermione leaned back as her parents, well, three of them at least, exchanged meaningless pleasantries. Her father at least appeared to be make the a valiant attempt to be civil. Elizabeth gazed about in obvious disdain of the situation as a whole. Hermione glanced around the room, secret smirks being exchanged between Hermione and a few people around the room. Severus took immediate notice and simply rose a brow, to which she gave a cheeky smile.

“Ah, Hermione, I see you have brought your parents with you,” Mister Southington greeted her after leaving the potions master. “May I seek an introduction?”

Besides the gentleman stood his wife and daughter, both of which wore polite, intrigued smiles. Hermione gave a small curtsey before doing the honors.

“Mother, Father, this is Lord and Lady Southington with their daughter, sixth year Annalie Southington. Annalie is my mentor within the House, and has been guiding my education regarding etiquette, culture, and anything else she deems appropriate,” Hermione demurred. “Lord and Lady Southington, my I present to you my lord father and lady mother, Doctor and Doctor Granger.”

“Pleased to make your acquaintance,” Mister Southington smiled. “We have greatly enjoyed the company of your daughter during the school holidays. She is blooming into quite the beautiful young witch.”

The man gave a paternal smile towards the brunette in question. Indeed, with the help of her dorm mates, Hermione looked quite pretty. Curls piled high upon her, catching the cool light of the room. Several stray pieces framed her face, with a silver ribbon wrapped around her head, accenting her natural color. This year, she wore a light, grey dress with just enough silver to shimmer in the light. Stitches brushed along the back of her knees as the dress, and it’s layers, swished around her. An emerald sash tied the garment around her waist. 

“She does look presentable for once,” Elizabeth Granger nodded, a fake smile upon her face. “It’s a pity she doesn’t take more care in her appearance. One would think that she enjoys vexing me by not properly taking care of herself.”

“Yet, that is a parent’s primary role, is it not, Mrs. Granger?” Mrs. Southington asked, a shark smile upon her face. “To teach their child how to present themselves, prepare for outings and the like? If not from their parents, then where would they learn? We must guide our youth.”

“Indeed, Mrs. Southington,” Mr. Granger agreed before his wife could say more. “It is why we have pushed Hermione so hard in her academics. A well tuned mind is of the utmost importance.”

“Well said, Doctor,” Mr. Southington gave a small, tight smile. 

A similarly constricted conversation ensued for some time. Hermione watched, and answered as a good girl of society might. All the while, Elizabeth shot daggers at her, through cold smiles and thinly veiled insults. Nonchalant remarks of her “plain looks” and “unfortunate inability to consistently look after one’s self” were peppered into conversations with the Notts and Parkinsons. A particularly nasty jab about her teeth was further patronized by her muggle father’s comments of “not that she can help that if she wanted to,” when Jeremy and his family came up to pay their respects. All the while, each woman whom had been contacted placed seedlings of doubt and pity across the room.

Elizabeth mention how she would never be of use as an academic in any society as a woman. Mrs. Greengrass and Daphne, who stood at her side partly mortified, sniffed in disgust saying that a witch’s value to magical society extended far beyond ballrooms and pretty gowns. Mrs. Flint outright laughed at the muggle woman’s ideas of the magical world and it’s disciplines, and several other families looked upon Hermione with the greatest amount of pity. While none of these things were ideal, or really wanted, the young Slytherin knew best to encourage them. By the time she saw the Malfoy family, angry tension swirled around Elizabeth, her husband oblivious to his condescension when talking about magic in general, and Hermione subdued as her plan working a bit too well in some aspects.

“Hermione, darling, pleasure to see you again so soon,” Narcissa smiled at the young brunette, and, with a polite nod, “Doctors Granger.”

“Lady Malfoy,” Elizabeth sniffed. “Lord Malfoy, Mr. Malfoy.” 

“Doctors Granger,” Lucius replied, cold and imperious. “I hope you are enjoying our fine tradition.”

“It has been quite interesting,” Richard smiled. “Who knew how clever your lot can be when they are so inclined. I’m sure, one day, you will have such amenities as we.”

Hermione nearly flinched at the sight of the jumping muscle in Mr. Malfoy’s jaw. Undertones and subtext defined Slytherin life, and the following civil conversation painted a most unique picture. Elizabeth Granger spoke, with great restraint on Hermione’s opinion, about the surroundings, families, food, and decor. Richard Granger spoke soft words with an oblivious smile, words unflinchingly, and unintentionally, patronizing. 

By the end of the luncheon, Hermione couldn’t flee quick enough. Once her parents left, via Professor Snape’s floo, she darted through the common room and into the second year girl’s dormitory. Pins littered the small vanity next to her bed, and she finally allowed herself a hallow, humorless smile. _All for the greater good, Hermione,_ her mind crooned, trying to patch up the wounds from her mother’s sugar coated daggers. As the other girls chattered and flooded the room, she wished and willed her plan’s success. 

_Please, let this work._

——————————————

Glacial eyes swept across the ornate solarium. Talking laughter and conspiratorial whispers swirled around the room. From the dress robes to the manners to who talked to who, the ladies gossiped of nothing but the school social event just attended a week prior. Bone china clinked and tea steamed from the mugs. Narcissa Malfoy gazed about the assembled party. While Lucius entertained the men in one of the larger saloons, house elves working industriously for the upcoming supper, keen ears listened to what the powerful ladies of society thought of one particular second year.

A small scroll found it’s way to her person two weeks before, asking to be her ‘eyes and ears’ during her annual post-Luncheon events. The young girl formed a plan to prey on the minds and sensibilities of the very women who clicked and clucked in her solarium. Last year, they thought her a clever orphan, clever, well mannered, and eloquent. This year, she aimed to make her new society decide to keep her, protect her from her muggle family, and, hopefully, whatever else may come. One could never have too many contacts or alliances. 

“The poor dear,” Peony Parkinson cooed to Lotte Flint. “With such parents, one wonders how they even raised such an eloquent, polite daughter. One of Pansy’s best friends, you know.”

“And with such obvious displeasure at the event as a whole, let alone to her own daughter, so plain and obvious,” sniffed the other lady. “Quite reprehensible. The whole time, Miss Granger bore it with such grace, befitting a Slytherin, truly.”

“Absolutely,” another woman chimed in as she sat, “I cannot fathom how being around such a woman does any favors for the child. Slytherin cunning and self preservation at it’s finest, I must say.”

“Did you see the way she demurred to the woman?” Peony leaned in, voice low.

“And how she tired to tactfully correct and inform her parents, so unassuming and unobtrusive,” the Flint matriarch conspired. 

“And her father,” the third chimed in. “So condescending, and without a clue. The pains Miss Granger must have been through.”

“All without a single word of protest or obvious signs of distress or vexation,” Peony nodded. “My Pansy told me how quiet the child was right afterwards, but she bounced back admirably.”

“A Slytherin, through and through,” nodded Lotte. “Adaptable, quick on her feet, how else would you explain her ability to guide her parents through the event without a single faux pas. They, of course, could not have known what is proper behavior, but the young Miss Granger displayed excellent breeding. One would think her a pureblood or a lady of society, at the very least, by her actions alone.”

“Indeed,” the other ladies nodded in agreement. “It will be interesting to see how she grows, yes? I wouldn’t be surprised if she achieved much.”

“Miss Granger is a Slytherin,” Peony turned her pretentious nose up. “Of course, she will achieve great things. It is the norm for us, you know. I expect she will be quite the catch as well.”

Talk dissolved into the newest romantic intrigues, who’s children were dating each other, the matches they hoped to see, and those they didn’t. From across the room, Narcissa caught Natalie Southington’s eye, a slight smirk gracing her regal features. _Yes, a plan well laid and executed, indeed,_ the refined lady reflected. Mothers wanting the muggle-born witch for a daughter-in-law, pitying the parents and accepting the child into the constricted circle. Miss Granger’s elegant scheme worked to perfection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed this update, and I promise there is more coming soon. I will also be working on updating my other stories. I have several of the chapters partially written, and just need a bit of a finishing touch before they can go up all together. If you have any questions, please feel free to ask them, and I'll try to respond to them all. As it is, I am working m way through previous comments. 
> 
> Thank you all, and I hope you will continue to enjoy this and all of my stories! <3

**Author's Note:**

> I have always enjoyed the reversing of houses for Hermione. Those I have read set the scene by having Slytherin House accept her while everyone else does not believe it. It is interesting to note the judgement and reverse discrimination that would have happened against Slytherins, and thus their ‘us against the world’ mentality. 
> 
> I wanted to add another element to it: Hermione isn’t welcomed by the majority of her House. I plan on her having one or two allies as she slowly forces the rest of her House to accept her. Being bossy and a know it all, it only makes sense she will be royalty. 
> 
> Enjoy!


End file.
